Midnight banter

The clock ticked away slowly, until the long and the short hands kissed the Twelve. Without a warning, the seconds seem to have paused, the time stood still. In those moments it felt like an eternity. Was it in my subconscious mind?
I heard my voice quiver, as I began the banter with my reliable self, a mirror image of me, someone more sensible than my-self. In a pitch dark room, the only illumination was from the stars thousand miles away, twinkling and sympathising, acknowledging their presence.

I ask -

"What is love?

Where do you find it?

For how long does it stay?

Does it survive?

For ages?

Or it comes with a validity like everything else?

Tell me?

What is love?

Where do you find it?

If it didn't stay, you mean it wasn't Love?

Or is it okay to consider it too?

Wait,

One falls out of love too,

The way one falls in it.

But,

How do you decide,

It was love?

Or it is love?

Or whatever.

Tell me?

Did you meet love?

Here or on the other side?

Tell me

Where do you find love that is selfless and stays forever..."

My thoughts run wild but I only stay still.. as still as the ocean, but a storm begins raging into an indestructible cyclone, bellowing at a wavelength that would meet a silent death.
The only illumination now fades away, as thunderstorm takes over; the wrath of the heaven begins its showtime. Everything sweet meets with an end, I'm told.

I hear my voice continue -

"What happens to the beautiful flowers once they bloom?
Do you still admire them?
Or let the memories be forgotten?

Do you feel their pain?
As scattered as they lay after the deluge, everywhere to be walked upon?
Satisfied? Crushed? Eager to die?

Does it paint a beautiful picture?
The sketch of its sacrifice?
Filled with hallowing distinct shades of its skin?

Do you see me there?
Shattered and devastated as I lay, after the storm,
An unprecedented endearment I'm shunned from?

Do you see me weep?
Do you hear me scream?
The shrieks, the bawl, and the silent whisper?

Will you stop? Stop me from withering,
Dying an unaccounted death,
Please, I'm not done yet..."

A shrill, a whimper, a silent tear rolling down, Accompanied by uncontrolled tears that drain with it, all my love for him,
A love as pure as his soul, innocence laden in every layer..

Was it love?

Or it still is?

Please tell me, I have been dying for it..