Too much.

Too much.

It’s been a while. Hey! I hope you like this. It’ll mean a lot to me if you can share this with your friends through the buttons at the bottom of every post. Do share if you like it and let me know if you did in the comments section. Also, tell me what breaks your heart. Enjoy!

Steve was heartbroken the day Husky died but was always afraid to admit it because he believed heartbreaks had become cliché. There were too many poets writing about it, too many eyes crying over it, too many stories ending because of it. He believed heartbreaks had become ‘too much’ and he was born a minimalist.

He liked his walls pitch black and preferred turning on the lights twenty-two times because that’s when it was the brightest. His main room had only a bed and a flower pot but no windows. So obviously, the flowers kept dying and he bought new ones every time. At any given time, you’d only see things that he needed in his room. At nine in the morning, just a laptop – placed specifically on his ‘lap’ to serve its name’s purpose. Three hours later, a cup of coffee and a single paperback. At bedtime, a blanket, music player, and cassettes of old music. The only constants in his room were the bed, the flowers, and Steve himself.

Steve was used to constants because they had reason and purpose and logic. So when a male Husky walked into his life for no reason at all, he was baffled. The dog was a year old maybe and lived outside Steve’s house but one day, he just decided to introduce himself. The introduction had a wagging tail and Steve’s giggles. With time, they got used to each other and Steve gave the puppy a name – Husky. With time, Steve and Husky didn’t need a reason to stay together. The minimalist had found his favorite ‘too much’.

The thing with love is that it cannot stay forever. It comes in shades of black and white, soft to touch and if you’re lucky, it licks your face. But like any dog, love has trouble learning how to stay. When Husky died, Steve came to face to face with the famous cliché and he was afraid to accept it. Eventually, he did embrace the cliché because he worked on logic and experience taught him that constants die – be it flowers, moments or pain.

Into poetry? – Strangers with Pizza Boxes.
Instagram : @myspirals


Published by

Utsav Raj

Poets, madness and lies.

27 thoughts on “Too much.”

  1. Very well conceived and we’ll written too! Was happy to finally get a mail about your new post! Yes, it was a long time since you wrote something. Sharing it now so others can read this articulation of a universal truth


  2. Wow! Your line “the thing with love is that it cannot stay forever “. Very true.
    Everytime it dies, we need to rekindle it with our own efforts.
    Loved reading it. 😊


  3. Great story. I think missing is the part of love that stays, yet experiencing unconditional love, especially with a loving doggie stays in our hearts forever. So maybe stay convoluted. 😊


  4. Super post! I applaud you. For me, love has not ever stayed, but as one commentator wrote, always has a manner to rekindle somewhere along the way. Trusting has been my issue, but you know, I have no “religion” to trust, therefore, I must conclude I trust in the super power of human love with a Creator of us all. For me, the scent of love is sweet, with tender memories, and promises for tomorrow. Peace brother…


  5. Even when a beloved pet is gone, the memory of it lingers in our heart. That, in time, helps to cope with the loss.


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