When it enters, it is full of glory, like a maddening passion, an obsession is love. With restless hours and pounding heart, it conquers the senses and is difficult to hide. However, when the short term targets are achieved, this very love, that was once the be all and end all, changes into indifference of attitude, some simple neglects, some idleness in temperament. Some lethargy replaces those anxious moments which had once filled the hearts of lovers. The eyes that once had longed for a vision become so indifferent to the daily sights that they no longer bother to even look. The moments that once saw silent nothings being whispered in ears change into those full of short tempered retorts and these gradually become a daily routine. And love that was once all fire and passion ceases to be the reason of existence. Yes, love dies a silent death.
Where lost in the daily chores, nobody cares for love, yet somehow, somewhere, it waits to revive. It needs an effort to bring it back, a chance happening, a misfortune sometimes.
Yes, love dies a silent death, the love that was affectionate, so passionate. And yet there remains something deeper in the flesh that time cannot kill a feeling so deep yet so simple that it is ignored like the simple facts of daily life. Yes, this feeling is deeper and stronger than love and it remains deep inside, hidden from all, while love dies a silent death.
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