Creative Writing The Pain

So far, I have loved two girls, but now I feel I would fall in love for the third time because one of my previous loves failed and I am about to back off from the second.

  
I feel that my third love should be the one to put a full stop to my love stories. I want it when I fall in third love. I have been wishing for a long time that I would not rush into falling in love again.

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Maybe I will fall in love for the third time when I have little time to live. I will probably spend all my love in that time. I want to spend my life putting flowers in her hair with my trembling hands.

I already have experienced pain, and now I want to get involved in my third love wholeheartedly. I had thought that if a person's completeness is measured, then I should not fail in that measurement. Not even a bit of my soul should be found wanting.

The third love is like a scale to measure my future. My first love is a matter of the past. It has passed. The second love is the present, but it is like a mixture of the past and the future. The second girl was like a beautiful flower in the forest, spreading its smell to everyone. I was just one who was smelling that fragrance.

After her first touch, I felt as if I was playing an old musical instrument. I felt there was a mark on her soul—a very old mark. She wanted me to erase that mark by kissing it.

Her touch recreated a picture of the softest touch of my first love in mind. She had said, “In the future, when you become a better person, then maybe this picture on your soul will lead you towards real love.

I thought that if I knew how to touch properly, then there would be no need for me to speak. I felt that when I touched her, she liked my touch, or probably it reminded her of her old lover. That's what I felt. She was not looking at me.

I wanted to kiss her like a raw poem of mine, but as soon as I kissed her, it was as if time stopped. Or rather, we both stopped. We both kissed each other's past, perhaps by mistake or intentionally. This is what I felt. As I watched her in front of my eyes, she started converting into my old lover. I felt as if I had divided into one of her old lovers. As if that kiss has exposed both of us.

In a few moments, our past started appearing in that room. She converted into multiple girls as if she had kept them hidden inside her for years. A sweet touch to the soul can give you a different form, but what I felt was painful.

My second lover had converted into my first girlfriend, who came out of her. The girl that came out of her was like an angel, but she behaved like an imp. Finally, the poet inside me shook off the hand of that imp inside her. "No, this will not be right for me." I was there, and she was there, and the pain that existed was forever.

Maybe both of us were no more the same. There was only one man and one woman in that room. The man in the room asked the woman, "Do I know you?" The woman said while leaving the room, "I don't know myself, so why do you expect I will know you? Maybe I came here by mistake."

So now I am searching for my third and last love who can understand my pain.