black and white gerber daisy 
It’s not about him.

Never was.

Not really.

She doesn’t know it, though. And he cannot make her see that it isn’t. 

Love just simply is not enough.

Not yet.

By the time she figures it out, though, there will be too much water under the bridge. No way to turn it all back. 

Too late.



54 thoughts on “Reason

  1. … So glad I didn’t miss out on mine… He found me… After being “lost”…so… I guess I must thank his one before… I get to reap the benefits of her loss!! Redemption!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hey Victo,

    A wonderfully written post on the tragedy of unrequited love and lost opportunity.

    One wonders if the same blustery storm capable of washing vibrant colour from a Sunflower also impels the wisp of a Dandelion to flower anew as well? Such is the flow of life.

    Hoping you’ll not mind, I couldnโ€™t resist sharing Narudaโ€™s maudlin verse. The guyโ€™s a genius in matters of the heart…

    From ~ Twenty Poems of Love ~ By ~ Pablo Neruda ~

    I can write the saddest lines tonight.

    Write for example: โ€˜The night is fractured
    and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distanceโ€™

    The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
    I can write the saddest lines tonight.
    I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.

    On nights like these I held her in my arms.
    I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.

    She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
    How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.

    I can write the saddest lines tonight.
    To think I donโ€™t have her, to feel I have lost her.

    Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
    Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.

    What does it matter that I couldnโ€™t keep her.
    The night is fractured and she is not with me.

    That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
    my soul is not content to have lost her.

    As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
    My heart looks for her: she is not with me

    The same night whitens, in the same branches.
    We, from that time, we are not the same.

    I donโ€™t love her, thatโ€™s certain, but how I loved her.
    My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.

    Anotherโ€™s kisses on her, like my kisses.
    Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.

    I donโ€™t love her, thatโ€™s certain, but perhaps I love her.
    Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.

    Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
    my soul is not content to have lost her.

    Though this is the last pain she will make me suffer,
    and these are the last lines I will write for her.

    Have a wonderful week, and a happy one! ๐Ÿ™‚


    DN โ€“ 22/02/2016

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Pingback: My Article Read (2-21-2016) – My Daily Musing

  4. I love your photos.
    I have my favorite quote which just always reminds me why I love us, men and women, for what we are:
    “While there are men and women there will always be messes. Men are fire, women: patches of burlap. Things will happen.” ~ Camilo Jose Cela ๐Ÿ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

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