How does withering of love feel like and what does it look like to the outsider?
A full-bloom flower suddenly gone withering?
A flower slowly withering, losing its beauty by every passing day, its hue the hue of rust, of death.
It does not scream and drop suddenly on the ground. as if stabbed in the heart.
It just slowly, imperceptably fades away. Like the love that has learnt to live without its beloved, who has resigned itself to its fate, is now companions with loneliness and is used to the indifference shown its way.
It reminds itself of the love that was, the fragrance it emits, diminishing. It can feel it, but it can not express it. The epicenter is there no more. And still it carries out, unknown to the world, pretending every thing is under its feeble control....