An Unfinished Poem

We both knew this poem would not be finished. It would always remain a piece of incomplete work. But, still we chose to write the first word - love - for the poem of our lives. The first word that would change our lives forever. The first word that would mean more than the last. The first word that we wrote with our souls. The first word that we would always remember. But we never thought about finishing that poem because the endings were not always beautiful. We were afraid that completing this poem would ruin its beauty, weren't we?

It was never meant to be a complete piece of art. It was broken, incomprehensible, unfinished, and a little ruthless like our love. It was like a wanderer in the forest. It resembled the journey of gipsies. It was a pearl, lost in the mighty ocean, waiting for its turn to be found.

But that unfinished poem carried our memories. The moments that we shared, the days that were spent in search of a perfect ending, the nights that we almost found a finishing line and the thoughts that were going to haunt us forever. 

But my love, we wrote each other in those lines. We carved our skins on those pages. We yelled in that ink. We screamed in that climax. But also, we loved, cared and respected each other during the dark pages.

Today, when I am writing this, I have questions for you. Do we always have to finish something that we have started? Aren't incomplete poems beautiful and full of mystery? Do we always need closure for everything? Aren't the questions carry their answers? 

Just like this blog, some things should never be completed.