Love

Since the very beginning of mankind, love has been there. It was there between Adam and God. It was there between Adam and Eve. As it is one of the best and purest feelings in the world.
Since then people have come and go writing about love. From the cozy, goosebump, butterflies and wonderful master pieces to the dreadful and heart broken poetry. Many ordinary and extraordinary writers, authors, philosophers, poets and people whose only identity was that they loved so truly and therefore they are still remembered, have done their finest jobs of exquisitely, enthusiastically and with all their heart and soul writing about love.

From praising their loved ones,
To the broken heart.
“In their love I made them my lord but forgotten that I had God is to many not to one.”

Since the very beginning to today’s modern and digital world. Love has been the most written topic and you can imagine the tons of stuff by far.

The beauty of love is that every piece either well nurtured or poorly built, If you’re in love you’ll find it as if it’s on you. As if the indescribable feeling either amazing or heart broken had finally been spoken.
The irony of love is that at the same time nothing seems to actually fit on it. As if the greatest authors have failed to actually explain the very phenomenon of love. As if nothing could praise the beauty of the person I love.

Now every lover has it’s own words, it’s own expressions and it’s own way of describing it.
For me in Life sometimes,
Love is not about HAVING the person you love.
It is about letting go of the person you love for their own good.

Love is not about mourning over the love you didn’t get.
It is about not being able to mourn over them because of them.

Love is not about spending lives together.
It is about spending lives alone knowing they got better.

Love is not about sacrificing yourself.
It is about stepping forward and making them sacrifice. (In all honesty that is the biggest sacrifice you can make)

And,
Even if their happiness is you and you know that it’s all in vain,
Love is not about being happy in love.
It is about chosing their happiness over yours.

Capping on,
Zaid Saleem.

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Confusion

Who can be more confused than a guy, who literally thinks ten times before drinking the last sip of his drink.That whether he should save it till the end for the last bite or just drink it right away.
Who thinks a hundred Times before palying a song that whether he should play the other one cuz it might be better.
Who thinks a thousand times before going out that whether staying home would be more fun.
I mean seriously man just get it over with.
But sometimes it’s not about that drink, song or that hang out.
But everything in life is like that.
Sometimes, you know you’re screwed but the confusion is that, was this screw up worth it?

Capping on,
Z.Saleem

Moments’ After Life

Sometimes in Life there are moments when it feels like everything is moving so fast, all in haste, such a rush so much is happening around that you can’t even keep track of it, it all feels like a blur. Just moments in the haste of passing too quickly.
And as soon as the moment is over just within a blink of an eye the time just stops like a dead end and in the end you’re in bed just staring at the ceiling of your bedroom.
I just wish they don’t leave you like this, all stunned.
I once wrote that,
“The best yet worst thing about moments is that they pass”

Capping on,
Zaid Saleem.

But Sometimes

Feeling isn’t it?
But sometimes,
That’s just Overwhelming isn’t it?
Overwhelming isn’t it?
But sometimes,
That’s just being happy isn’t it?
Happy isn’t it?
But sometimes,
That’s just being sad isn’t it?
Sad isn’t it?

But sometimes,
Feeling overwhelmingly happy is, just sad isn’t it?

Strange isn’t it?
But sometimes,
That’s just life isn’t it?
Life isn’t it?
But sometimes,
That’s just stupid isn’t it?
Stupid isn’t it?
But sometimes,
That’s just amazing isn’t it?
Amazing isn’t it?

But sometimes,
Strangely stupid life is, just amazing isn’t it?
                –                 –                 –
Capping on,
An independent poem by,
Zaid Sometimes Saleem.