Love versus love

“You stained my happy places like whine on a white cloth and now, I wander on the streets because I have no place to go to anymore. When you said I am crazy, maybe you were right because now I talk to myself on these empty streets. I am dented, I am flawed. I am self destructive.

It’s a war; we are caged and trapped, suffocating and being churned in between the two sides. It’s a war between my love for you and your love for me, a war between my unconditional love for you and your obligatory love for me. And it feels like a sin now, to make you love me. Should it? I wouldn’t know.

I am dented, true I am. You hate that about me, don’t you? You hate how sleep seems like the most boring thing to me, I would rather stay up and pour my heart out to you. You hate how I prefer skipping meals than hitting the gym and still lose my shit over wanting to get thinner. Don’t you know that I want to disappear? I tell you I want to, then why did you not put two and two.

31st December, 2017”

It has been years, 7 today, precisely. Another new year, new beginning.  And I have moved on, I think. Then why did it happen that I am still scared of that part of me, the part that is 17 and maybe still madly in love with you? Why is it that I avoid the streets where we walked while hiding from the world, the places you took me out to, the screenshots that still lie undeleted in my gallery, unopened since they were taken, the pictures that we took, the memories that we made. I guess, I am scared of them or maybe myself because I know I still am in love with you. I love him more though, the right way, the good way. I hope I do, god I pray I do. Because if I don’t, then I am contaminated with our long lost love even now. I feel love in my heart, the familiar feeling still in my blood the same throbbing occasionally when September rolls around. I don’t know who owns this love though. I tell myself it is just the autumn that saddens my heart not you or us. But I don’t love you? Okay? I don’t know why I am writing you this.

We fell out of touch, the connection we had seemed to wear out with time but somehow amongst the hundreds of people I meet in life each day now, you are one I can never forget. Firsts they say, always memorable. Today, I spent hours looking for you online, searched every possible social networking site and every place you could have left a mark. I looked up at every place where your passion could have taken you, every nook where your dreams might make you want to hide. Been so many years and I smile that even today I remember each dream that you had, the passion in your eyes while somewhere along the line that I forgot mine. 

So today when I empty my heart out on this paper, and send this to you the clichéd old school way, as a letter, I want you to know why I wrote you today after all these years. I love him, he loves me. Does that hurt you, I guess not. Do I want it to? Maybe.  After four years of being together, he decided to promise me the togetherness of a lifetime, the infinity that I always wanted, the security, the love, he gives me all of it. His smile is perfect but it misses those dimples, this eyes are perfect but a tint lighter than yours and somehow that does bother me. He got down on one knee with hopes in his eyes and he asked me if I would like to take him as my forever. But then, I saw you promise ring still sitting on my finger and somehow, I realized that it belongs there. How could I take it off?  So I let him go, I let my forever walk away, the perfection I wanted. He smiled though, he knew it all along I guess.

 So today as I ventured to the street where we first kissed, and stood under the same street light but alone this time. I saw us there, 17 and happy, laughing at a joke you just told. I can see the love in our eyes, the passion of our hearts expressed on our faces. 

 So two days from now, at seven pm just like that night, I will wait for you under the same streetlight and look for love in your eyes all over again because I know you are single too. 

And with this I will send you a copy of our picture when we were young and broke, of the first time you held me and we posed and I can imagine the smile on your face, the dimples that used to make my day. So come and meet me, lead me to my happy place again, let me find home in your eyes all over again and retrace my fingers over all the details that I memorized long back. Come back, come home and let me love you, all over again.

With love, 

Your adorable angel.


I could write books about you, did I tell you? Because you gave me heartache enough to write a series and still not feel hollow.  A book about your quirks and perks, poems about your eyes and verses about your beauty. Then why did you give me a reason to scribble pain on my pages? I guess I never really saw that tragedy is your favorite genre. Or maybe, I never wanted to.

Lets swallow the pain, collect our scattered minds splattered all around the walls of our skull because scattered hearts are too mainstream and pain has numbed ours. Then why is it that each time you smile, I can feel a little tuck in my heart as if its shifting its place. No, I won’t tell you it jumps out, because it does not. It crouches in a little more in my chest because it knows the hurt it will go through again. And then, it travels up my body again, the same old pain. And then you shake hands with me, pulling me in for a side hug and my mind spins, it spins because I remember each inch of your skin perfectly, I remember how your jackets are scented and then suddenly just a side hug doesn’t feel enough, I want more. I want to bury my face in your chest and hold onto your jacket for a while longer. May I?  Can I? I don’t know, I don’t think so. 

What are boundaries? Because we broke our barriers and so did my love for you. Did you know that best friend? Because I told him. And he is you. Isn’t he? Irony how you want to shield me from all the pain in this world and he gave me a new taste for it. Before us, I felt heartache; I felt heartbreak but this time? I felt the realistic blow that breaks your heart into little piece till they dissolve with the dust and fly away in the world. Maybe someday a piece will land with the one who is meant to be. Who knows? But right now even thinking about someone else feels like treachery because we aren’t over yet. Are we?

You are a mystery. No, not a mystery, you are just so complex and complicated and so are your “I love you”s. are those for your ex who is your potential girlfriend or for your bestfriend? You have loved both, in different ways. And maybe someday with enough caffeine in my body I will ask you this and then regret it that very second because I know, I know that you don’t know the answer yourself. And maybe you do, because I see the same love in your eyes that I did once when you held me for the first time. A fleeting emotion in your eyes, the one only a hopeless romantic could capture. Did you love your best friend that day? I would never know. 

And then you take my hand in yours, our fingers automatically falling into their places in the troughs of our hands. I don’t want to look up again, maybe never because I know a lone tear might betray me again. When I feel the sensation of your fingers next to mine, I have an auto flashback in my mind, the same slides of memories I go through at least once a day.  From the first time your fingers touched me to each time you held my hand, I can feel the dead butterflies lying in my stomach. They can’t flutter. They shouldn’t.

The world writes about best friends who fall in love, the moments they spend together and the eternity that is imaginable to them. Isn’t it all so clear? All so obvious? But what if they break up, what if they are ‘just best friends’ again?  

I never knew, I guess I will. 

We joke about the good old times, the love we shared and the times we had. We joke about how we aren’t getting back there anytime soon. It isn’t supposed to hurt right? It kind of does. We talk about our unsure future, your love that I am unsure of. Can I pull out my hair? I miss pulling yours when I was mad at you. 

It’s the pain I guess, the pain of hiding behind this mess of entangled titles that makes me write to you at nights instead of sleeping. Do you feel it too? The loss? The pain of not knowing what we are or will be?

With love and doubts,

Your adorable angel.


“Now shut your eyes and I will shut mine as you slowly come close and kiss me goodbye.”

The air in the room seemed to have thickened. As I let it all sink in, I could see faces turning pale and eyes growing wet. Carried back into the flashback of my book’s last page, I could feel my eyes welling up with the same raw emotions all over again. Gently resting my spectacles on the table, I announce it’s the end of the session for today. As I sit there and stare at the old, make do  spectacles, I smile to myself remembering how much she loved them when I first out it on.  A gift, she had said,  for one day, who knows, maybe you will want to write a book and that day, you need them.  I remember how I had smiled at her silliness, telling her we could get them together once I actually needed them and she, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was as if, as if she knew. I think I want to believe she did.

As I retrace my way out like on all these late evening after my reading sessions of the book club, I wonder about how many times have I lived this very same ending. And yet, it seems like a fresh wound on my heart. I smile a little to myself, remembering how she would laugh at this and say that she tends to have a lasting impact on people. Over the years, I have realized, I like to have her around me as the sound of her laughter filling the silences of my mind, her small footsteps begging me to walk slower, with her. I like to have her around, in the form of her favorite quotes and dialogues, the words she said a little too often.

On some days, I take the long route back, the one that passes through the landmarks of my life as if I am trying to link it up all over again, as if I am trying to make sense of it. And today, is one of those days. As the sun gives way to the darkness and the stars, I imagine walking down the road with her, how she would ramble about loving the stars, about getting drunk with me one day and laughing under the open sky. And I?I would be the careful one, telling her how unsafe would it be and she would laugh as if it did not matter. Just as if she knew it all, maybe she really did not.

I relive the days on this route, mostly. And on the other days, I think about how the future could have been, how we could walk down the same lanes without the flashbacks that hurt. As I pass the darkest area of my life, I can sense the loneliness slip in. I can hear her words echoing in my ears and my feet pick up pace.

“This place, this is where I would want it to end. This would be our new beginning” she would say and I would tell her how late into the future would it be because we are here, we will come here but it would never be the end.

Soon I cross the building that I have hated the most over the years, but somehow, today I feel pity for it. I pity the dull rooms, the over-walked corridors and the over exploited church rooms. I pity the happiness it gives away and the sorrow that it seeps. And in no time, I am walking down the same corridor, down the memory lane.

The rooms all look similar, but I know which one calls for me. Unsure of what to expect, I walk in through the doors and that very second I know I should not expect. She looks at me, the same old soothing comforting eyes calling out to me, a tired smile extending over her lips. And somehow, I know this is the smile that will haunt me all along. She tells me to come closer, sit down next to her and then laughs as she says she forgot how I keep saying I will never fit on a single bed with her. But gently, she makes me sit close to her. I look at her hand, her smooth soft skin tired and marked with the drips, her eyes never dropping down even once. I know how much she hated blood so she would never look at the hands she always loved. The pride of their beauty, is like a fallen building in her eyes now. I look her in the eyes as she tells me to, she speaks in a language unknown.

“This time is maybe the last time we walk down these hallways, our feet landing on the entrance of this door. This is maybe the last time we sit here and chat about how you never get me the right color of flowers, how I want chocolate and pizza more than the flowers, how I want you the most out of them all. This is maybe, the last time we sit here with me curled up into your arms crying about all this pain and discomfort and how I miss our golden times. This maybe the last time you hear me speak and laugh and maybe self obsess. But know it that this might be the last day, the last day I tell you that I love you but this won’t be the last time I feel this way. This might be the last time I hold your hand, the last time I feel and give into your touch but this wont be the last time that I long for it. This might be the last time you tell me that you love me, but I know this won’t be the last time you feel it. “

As her words sunk in, I gave her the best smile that I could manage because I know, I knew this is the last time she will see my face, she will see me smile and she loved my smile always.

“So shut your eyes, and I shut mine, and we will both smile. Shut you eyes and I shut mine as I say hey one last time because saying bye to you feels so wrong. Now shut your eyes and I will shut mine as you slowly come close and kiss me goodbye”

And with that, she shut her eyes with a smile lingering on her lips as I kissed her for one last time and slowly she let go off my hand because she couldn’t hold it any longer.

And as I come out of the flashback with tears streaming down my face, I just know that today I have to walk back all the way to the graveyard where she wanted her story to end, where she thought we will get our new beginnings. And as I kneel next to her grave, crumbling all over again, I know I need to tell her that I love her because the last time I should have, she wasn’t there any longer to listen. And with that, I kiss her grave, I kiss her goodbye all over again.


Growing Up

It, merely, was a dream, I guess. When we were kids we would dream about driving around in luxurious cars, to stay out late with our friends and party. It was a fairy-tale world where we did not have to wake up at six o clock in winters, where there were no compulsions on anything, there were no adults, and we were the adults.

What we did not know was the transition from childhood  to adulthood, somewhere, lay trapped as the ink in our pens when we had to fill the columns of our strengths, when we had to know if we knew ourselves. Childhood was trapped in the cage of memories and adulthood suffocated like a blanket of thick air. No more would we wake up at six but we would stay up at four because life had left us sleepless and people had left us speechless. No longer is partying about freedom, it is all about escapism, escaping the world of our conscience.  Who wants to be an adult now? Let’s turn back into kids.

Colored people are no longer the ones we see through glazed papers, they are people with hidden personalities and a black heart. Songs are no longer beats that we grove to, those are lyrics that we are afraid to say out aloud. Rains are no longer fun to dance in, they just hide our tears now. Kisses are no longer a symbol of our friendship; they are a beginning to our tragic tales. Sweets are no longer enough to cater to our cravings; nothing seems to handle our constant mood swings.

Life is no longer like the pictures in the books by our favorite authors; it is more like those hidden quotes and lines that we reread all the time. Regrets are no longer eating a little more than our appetite when the food is too good, regrets are the one in memories that we can never forget.

Fool and silly are no longer the words that pierce right through our heart. Planning no longer refers to the detailed plan of how to judiciously use our hard earned pocket money, its plans of what to do with our useless lives.

Vulnerabilities are no longer our secret tickle spots, they are the secrets that we hide deep in our hearts. Time is not spent day dreaming and venturing into new worlds, it is spent reliving all those moments.

Hard life decisions are no longer between the ten different types of candies at the display of a shop, decisions are now about whose heart to break.  Childhood is not something we want to outgrow any longer, it is the only treasure we possess.





I want to write books about you, verses about your smile and you laugh, poems about your insanity that makes me sane. I want to write about you, your coffee colored eyes, your quirks and perks. But my heart, it’s always at a loss of words. Writer they say, what a shame, and the lover inside me laughs.
I want to wake up each day with a little amnesia feeding on my mind, fear of the unknown chipping away my soul. I want to wake up each day, meet you all over again and realize this is what is love. I want to see the person behind the lens, live in
each of his flash, be the detail you want to zoom and capture forever. I want to be his picture, his picture where he is you.

I want to laugh again, oddly at mid nights, and dance in the moonlight as your hands shield me from the breeze. I want to swing on the lyrics with you, the tune of the wind, the beats of your heart and the words of my soul. I want to be a song, the one you hum all along. I want to be your song.

I want to be your lies, the one that ease you into sleep, the denial that seeps into your body slowly making the pain turn to oblivion. I want to be the voice of the devil in your ears, angels that just hurt us further. I want to be the arms of darkness, the
darkest of shadows that will ever stick by. I want to be the sorrow that hit you the most, because what makes you the happiest, hurts you the most.

I want to be the wind you enjoy, not the oxygen you breathe. I don’t want to be your need, but the absence of what suffocates you. Oxygen, anyone can be, make me the reason for your comfort. The air around you that makes you feel alive, the one
which makes you close your eyes and think about what ecstasy life is, I want to be that breeze.

I want to be your toffee. The candy that melts into joy, the sensation hard to forget. I want to be the craving that never dies. I want to be your favorite flavor and, of course, its
unquenched thirst. I am your candy, and you, you are the kid who longs for me. The kid with eyes longing for me. Make me your sweetness, honey, will you?

I want to sit in all day, wrapped in your arms listening to the constant heartbeat of yours. I want to be held close enough, close enough so that our souls merge into one. Tied in your spell, held by your charm, I want to breathe your scent each second, all over again. I want to get lost into waters of you, your eyes and your smile and fall asleep to the sight of a smile painted on your lips. I want to smile like a child and wake up in
your arms the next morning.

I want to be your ink, the one scribbling so smoothly on empty pages, the ink that paints out your pain, frustration and joy. I want to be your comma, your full stop, the words that you write. I want to be your character, the one you make with all your imagination. I want to be your villain with a little good hidden deep in my heart, I want to be the criminal who committed the crime of loving a little too much. I want to be your main lead, remember all your words by heart. I want to be the story you make, the tangled web of plot that you draft.

I want to be a story, your story. I want to be the best seller you are proud of, the success that you have hard earned. I want to be your incentive, your motivation to wake up on
rough mornings when sleep betrayed you the night before. I want to be the reason you push yourself to make the final step.

You know, the dreams you have which make you realize that life isn’t that bad too? I want to be that dream, the smile that haunts you when you go to sleep, like a sweet taste in your mouth. I want to be the reason you feel strong and bold, the one thing you want to protect from the world. I want to be the mind and soul where you leave your mark after the doom, the temporary promise as the world says, but the constant preserved in your heart.

I want to paint you, sketch along each and every detail of your being. I want to be the colors of your heart. I want to give you the gift of immortality as a piece of art. I want to shade you, shade you from the evil of this world, the demons that are not me. I want to own and possess every detail, every nook and corner of you.

I need your insanity, your voice to ring in my ears, your image to dance in my mind. I need your hands to hold mine, your lips to kiss them, your eyes to communicate with mine, I need your grip to hold me in place when I stumble as I walk, your forehead
etched with worry as my eyes shut when I go dizzy. I need your scent to diffuse into me permanently so that it never evaporates.
You see it yet? I want and I need you to stay, stay right here as I coax you with my words. With you, I want all the clichéd part. I want to read books with my head resting on your shoulder under the night lamp, I want to sit on the counter as you cook our Friday night dinner. I want to be free, feel free but want to be caged in your heart, to go out and drink without worrying about life. I want to call you and break down, melt into a puddle
of emotions and sorrow as life turns hard. I want to sit by and watch your favorite television show as you make coffee for me on a cold winter day. I want to be like your like childhood dream come true, the dream you dreamt when you saw cartoons love their girls so much. I want you to be your favorite cartoon and me, me his love interest. Let me be the one who takes you into the world of your anime?

I need perfection, I dwell on it to live. But with you, perfect seems a sensation too less. With you, I don’t want perfect, I want natural. I want mistakes, I want to be one among them. I need the regret. I want to make you my decision that I know I won’t ever regret. I want to regret not taking it sooner, but you?I want you. I want to lose myself, my first kiss, my first fight, my first everything, damn. The first that I will never regret.

I think, I want the pain too. The one that silently sets in after every fight, the one that makes you want to give up every now and then. I want the pain, the tears and the making up. I want the broken sentences written by our broken hearts, our tainted
hearts. I want it to end, end it for a while till realization dawn. But then, we will both suddenly realize that the pain is not worth it, but you are worth me.

I want you. I need you. Will you make me your poem?


A murderer without a knife. I saw my love turn into a silk rope, lusturous and attractive as it could be, gliding slowly down his neck, tracing his adam’s apple, gently. A criminal without a crime. I saw the rope tighten it’s grip, the love flowing effortlessly. Slowly gripping on a little more tight, I saw him leave. The breaths he took, shallow as they grew. I watched them stop like the pleasant kite flowing wind. There for a while, gone in the next moment.
I curse my love, my selfless being. The crazy unconditional love and the sadness in too deep. A snake to pet? What a fool he had been. Toxic as it seems, toxic was the being. And I bit and burned, cut and poured all the venom into his skin. Soon, I saw tender death suddenly take a grip. His eyes turned from brown to a shade darker, betrayed as he felt, suffering for his own sins. A dragon to raise? He surely was a fool. Burning in the fire of my breath, burning in the passion of my love. So i held him close, closer to me by my big long tail, draping him with my scales as they pierced through his skin. He and I, together was the dream. But he, he bled with each of them pricking into his skin, his flesh seemed more precious to him than me. So, I burnt. I burnt him for his sin.
And then I called out to him, but he never responded. I called out his name, even patted his head with my gentle hands, tenderly played with his hair. And the fool, he kept sleeping on the ground. Again, another sin. So I took my love, and draped it into this rope. I wove it myself, my love. And I am sure it would look pretty on you.
So I pick him up, wrap it around his neck where my arms need to be. It’s my place I think, his body is my temple, his soul my god. I stroke his cheeks again, taking his hands into mine. I am warm, warm with love and he? He is stone cold. I am red with love, and he is red with blood. Sin, sin sin, ugh. He committed another sin. Furious as it made me, I kissed his cheek one last time and killed him with my love, my rope.
But my mind screamed. He left. He is gone. He is not here anymore. I look around frantically. I call out to him. He doesn’t speak now. Sin, there is another one. I grab a bottle of poison, my very own. Gulping it down in a single sip, I know he is in for hell even in heaven. He committed a sin, he left. And he, he will pay.


As I sat down, scribbling words and adjectives to describe my own self, an assignment surely dreaded, I list the words that the world will never accept. Gone are the childhood days, I realise, when adjectives were limited to good and bad. The walls were just simple black and white. It then dawned upon with me, as I let the ink get soaked into the paper, when words stopped pouring that the world, it was built to stay trapped in shades of grey, like the earth revolves in a shade palette, all it has is grey.

As I reached to the last question on the paper, the weight of completing the task was vaporizing from my shoulder, my mind decided to shut.

Loud as a roar it echoed in my head, “Do you care?”and I smiled. Do I care, I asked my heart again and again, tingling in some annoyance to make it blurt an honest reply. Do I care? Do I care about the cars that drive past me at the speed of light? Do I care enough to look left and right? No, I don’t. Do I care? Do I care about days and days that pass without sleep? Do I care enough to let my soul rest? No, I don’t. Do I care if the heat seeps into my nerves as a hot pot settles on my hand like it’s home? No, I don’t. Smiling, I write, in the end, I think I care.I care enough to not let them see that I, I don’t care enough about life.


It’s a war, I like to think. To go far away from the clutches of common sense, to latch out on the serine ideas of theirs. It’s a war, that is what I think it is. But they, they don’t see it as one, they see child like rebellion thumping in my veins and thrill mixing with my blood. They don’t see the passion in my eyes, they see child like stubbornness in my heart. Little do they know, that acceptance is an art. I fell in love with the idea of acceptance at the age of five as I saw it slowly slip away from me. The longing, the desire and the cry for it made it an unfathomable sin. The one my heart was dedicated to, as it seemed. As the sensation of it touched my lips, the sound of the word itself spread an unattainable level of joy through every layer of my soul and my skin. In my mind, I painted ideas of their ideas, defied all sense of logic. And then one day, my mind pondered on a silly little question, asking me what is love. I spent days and days, dove into their sense of common sense, their logics and rationality. The term practicality that they hailed, the hypocrisy they preached, I went deep into all of that to look for an answer that satisfied my thirst. They say, love is correcting each other’s mistakes, to accept their originality and to bring out the better in them. Owing to the lack of a better explanation, I settled with it. And then, I met you. I met you burried under the lens of a camera, looking out at the world through it, and then I saw you had painted your world too. I saw your world had red trees, the people were rainbow coloured and the sun was black and dull. The homes were under water and the fishes walked. And in that moment, I could see our worlds fit in as they were never apart. The world never accepted our worlds, ironically as they were both based on acceptance of the different. Your fiction as it seemed, my logic that it lacked. And soon enough, I could see our worlds mix. I spend my days hiding behind pages and literature as it were my science of existence and you saw me each second as a model from behind your lens. You never knew how to speak correct french, and I adored it anyway even though love for perfectionism was my foundation. And that day, I realised that love isn’t correcting someone’s mistakes, it’s accepting the person with them. It’s loving them so much that they want to mend their mistakes for your sake. Love was never telling you how I love you is correctly pronounced in french, it’s listening to your mispronounced one and saying I adore you too. Because I, I really do. Love isn’t bringing out the better in you, it’s about knowing that for me, you are being the best you. As you held my hand that night, laying out in the park under a starry sky, telling me about how there are angels and demons fighting up there, for us and against us, I could see what was the acceptance I seeked. Acceptance wasn’t knowing that I was wanted, that I was needed. Acceptance had always been being where I had belonged, with my head on your stretched out arm and my heart beating for yours.


I, I have been in love before. Nothing crazy, out of the blue. Always a skip of heartbeat and shy glances at that smile.

I have been in love before, given him all god ever gifted me. He reeked of my consciousness and looked like my newfound mistake. Regret, it seemed, was soon to take a new shape. I have walked through the empty roads with him, stealing a few glances at him and seeing the confidence that he held, thinking about the same pride as I imagined him walk down the aisle. So, you see, I have been in love before.

I loved him with all my might, all that my tender heart could offer to the poor soul which trapped it. I loved him like a perfectionist, a little too much on the rough edges. Those hit me, hit me hard, and that is when I fell in love with pain. Slowly, I smothered them with my bare hands as they bled. I nourished him, nourished him with all I had. 

But then, one day, as I lay awake counting the stars from the night, hoping to move on with some magic spell, I saw his eyes. I shut mine, I looked into his. And in that moment I realised, I wasn’t in love with him anymore. I loved him, but I did not stay in love with him. I, what they say, moved on. And then, I smiled to myself because that day I understood what the crying girl once told me ‘you never move on’. I loved him, and then, I loved someone else a little more.

As perfectionism resided deeply in my being, my existence smiled a little as my alter ego challenged my mind to love someone else a little more, to give him more. So I went to my past, picked up the droplets of blood that were scattered on the floor, and took them all to this someone new. Because he, he became him. Him, with a little more of me. I gave him all I possessed, bits and pieces of me that I ever broke. I looked him in the eye and smiled, honey, I love you with my life. 

He smiled back, delighted me with that little curve on his lips. And soon, I came to love him even more. That is when it happened, you see, that is when I knew that I will stay in love with him forever. 

When he broke my heart, a little more than I ever knew could it break, I stayed in love. Cursed the days, cried through the nights but still loved him with all my might. And that is how, I knew that I will love him forever.

I want to fall in love again, with someone who wants to make me happy. But even now, his smile is all I love to see. No, I don’t want him now. Nor do I need his freshness to flood my senses and sweep me off my feet. All I think I need is, his happiness and someone to love again with yet another piece.


Do you miss someone right now? Do you miss the aroma of their perfume mixed in the layers of air that you breathe. Someone, someone out there whom you want to see right now, someone whose smile you miss alot. Probably the curling up of the side of their mouth or the smile from eye to eye? Do you miss someone so much that you hear them whisper in your ears that they are here?

Because I can. And I am sitting right next to you, still missing you- the way your eyes brighten up with each passing mile, the way you admire these stars that align. Because I, I miss you like you aren’t here next to me, like you were never here with me.

And then I feel the ache all over again, the one with comes when you aimlessly sit around in his shirt because you can’t let go, the ache like the gentle heart attacks one after another. I miss you like that, like you will vanish yet another time and this time, this time you are leaving me with nothing to hold on. You know how I miss you, how I make you miss me too. 

I love you, I blurt out every time I still see your face, and see a smile that lingers. Why, you playfully ask and I, I never know why.

As the music softly plays  and suddenly the sun decides to set, I figure it out and smile because you knew it all along. 

And then, I look into your eyes for the first time in eternity and say ” I love you. I love you because you don’t care that you still care.

And in that moment, I freeze our forever right there.