To love is to live, and all I did was love but no one ever teaches you that sometimes not loving at all is better than loving the wrong person. He was married, he told me he was unhappy. We would meet at unholy hours and do unholy things. Sometimes, he'd book a room and other times I'd settle for fucking in the back seat of his car. I can still feel his lips on mine sometimes, the warmth and how, for once, I didn't feel alone but it was wrong. I loved him, still do, and apparently still haven't realised he wasn't mine to love.

By Sanah Ahmed, January 7, 2015.