Fading

You are fading. Fast evaporating like spirit. And while I know it's for the greater good, a part of me still doesn't want to let go. The part that hopes and believes that good things come to good people. The part that has faith. The part that never learns from the past. The part that waits impatiently in the corner and jumps up at every little noise hoping it's you. 

Twenty Five Seconds of Bliss

I opened my eyes to find myself in an uncomfortable wooden box locked from the inside. Panicked, I looked for the key frantically till all I found was disappointment. I had to find the key that fit the lock. And so I searched again. And again, while I kept staggering upon splinters of misfortune that kept me locked inside for what felt like days. 

I had begun to notice the aesthetics of the construct of the inside walls; the contours designed by the cracks and the art in the dark green blotches. While I struggled in the dark, the saw dust dancing in the pencil thin ray of stifled optimism found it's way to me through the keyhole. Ah! That sweet yet humid smell of hope. Once it stung my soul, it precipitated and drenched the collars of my anguish and replaced it with a million flickering crimson red candles that consumed me till I was left at the mercy of my belief in a power much higher than my own. I acknowledged it and accepted it. It didn't annihilate me but it grounded me immensely.

As the walls of the box began to crumble around me, I wondered whether I had found the right key or outgrown the constraints of my own box. I ambled onto the streets of my new found perspective with a calm too endearing to behold. There was a sense of quiet inside me that I had never stumbled upon before; the kind of silence that only the colors of a picturesque could contain; sublime and serene yet disturbing to the heart but only enough to bring tears of tenderness to the eyes. And so, while it lasted, I resigned to it in a blissful surrender.

To The Person You Used to Be

"The moment rewinds like a film in my mind. There always comes a time to an ending I despise. Someday, when it's not too late; Someday, when I stop myself from running your way. Will I see the good in good-bye, you say?"

The pain of letting go - why does one have to go through it? Is it not easier to not love at all and live as detached beings. Are the forgetful really that blessed? 

Had I wished to, I could choose to erase your presence from my life like death rips soul from a body; gracefully, not a trace left behind. But I chose the path of dealing with the pain; of memorizing it and accepting it as my very own. It's a slow gradual process but it is also the one that'll truly acknowledge your presence in my life; like the last rites are performed to redeem a soul from the worldly belongings. It is painful, true; but it is only after you have earned the redemption that your journey begins; that you can truly say that you have really loved. 

You never acknowledged my presence in your life. You may also wonder what about us stirred such strong emotions in me. It could have been a look, or a touch, or a few words exchanged out of sheer politeness. The truth is that even I am unaware. But what I do know with certainty is that when I discover it I would have discovered something I don't have a name for. 

Every strong relationship writes on art, I feel. But maybe, it was only I amongst both of us who gave this relationship the tangible form that it deserves. I couldn't voice it earlier because I was apprehensive about what you might think. But now it's time for me to leave and I guess I have nothing else to lose.  

With Love,

To the person you used to be. 

Thirty Seconds

“I’ve been trying today to bring back your face. Most clearly I remember your eyes, with a kind of teasing smile in them, and the feeling of that soft spot just northeast of the corner of your mouth against my lips.”

A month has passed but everyday, since the past three weeks I have been spending eight hours a day to catch a thirty seconds glimpse of you; wishing you would say something to someone and I would get to hear your voice; wondering if you had anything left unsaid to me and hoping that you would say it now.

You leave me with a little of you everytime you pass me by. Sometimes, you smile; sometimes you wink and sometimes you just make a funny face. It might last a moment for you but for me it stays. It stays for the next few hours; lasts while I am on my way back home and barely enough till I put myself to bed with a thought of a better tomorrow. But tomorrow never gets better and now I just do it so that I can take home enough of you along with me to last for the day. 

There are days when I don’t see you at all. On days like these I shut my eyes and though I am almost always unsure of my ability to recall faces, yours just brightens the screen of my retina bringing back tattered bits of memories that I have with you which I have gathered over time. It’s like a collage and I relive each picture, no matter how small or big; and I secretly wish I had danced with you that night while you held me close instead of breaking into fits of crazy laughter to veil my awkwardness. 

I don’t know what I feel for you. If I wouldn’t have known love, I would have thought that I love you. But I don’t. It’s an unfamiliar magnetic force that pulls me and my thoughts towards the farthest stretch of your memory. It’s a feeling of strong emotions mixed with pangs of guilty pleasures; bouts of longing for soft sensual caressing mixed with wild scent of desire and animal passion. And while I desperately crave for your warm breath against my racing heartbeats and for your sweat against mine, those thirty seconds still suffice.

I miss you. I really really do. And irrespective of what logic tells me, I still believe with my entire existence that    you’ll come by and reciprocate instead of merely responding to my feelings in affirmative or otherwise. I know   I told you that I need you. That night I was drunk. But I guess I was right.