LOTTA LOVE

Morning dewdrops are effete linings of fallen clouds that take a nap on the life just a few feet above the sea level. They give mornings a feeling of calmness and unfledged part of the day that buds into this warm and cosy and sometimes churning air like now in India. Every person has a normal routine when they wake up: some shower, some get to look for something to eat, some do not actually have a routine making that the routine, some call or text those they love, some just lie in bed. Mine was the latter two, and it’s you I had in mind most of the mornings I woke up and wasn’t physically next to you.
Now, can’t sleep, no appetite, no psyche to get outta bed; looking like a frail doll just expeditiously made for no apparent aim or motive, but have to live through another morning of despair. Sounds like a low self-esteemed person, yeah I know that, but that used to be me way before.
Understanding situations to me is usually easy irrespective of time taken to perceive that’s why I’m able to toss a few words in and out to try and make sense out of nonsense. But every person has a weakness of letting those close to them fall under the scrutiny line of friends and you are no exception, I never thought too deep and too far about you until when I opted to see if I try and save you from yourself. Now as this situation stands tall, none of it makes sense at all.
You say ‘There’s this burning in my chest that I just can’t free myself from. A hollowing in my soul, a heart rugged with scars. How do I put this aptly – I’m dying. Slowly, I’m sinking into the abyss that my life has become. The pain I’ve been trying not to feel for so long is coming down hard on me. I must’ve been a fool to think that I could’ve remained forever numb. It runs so deep in my veins I just want to let it out, let it flow, and so if you come across cut marks on my arms or slashes on my wrists, do not be surprised’
No one asked you to remain numb, no one asked you to die; but you did, and maybe it’s not because you want to but because of certain situations that are in your reach only that you can’t physically grasp it. I know how swiftly a heart can be exploited by another heart, by words, situations or by somebody’s own mind and most of the times it doesn’t aptly conform to what is of truth and heart aches grow out of this.
If I’m to reminisce about us, I could write three or four best-selling novels and could win tons of prizes because they are precious moments in both our lives with both taste and fun and any other component that may come to mind. But I will only remind you of a few moments.

1. It’s around twelve at night, cold as hell, but the frogs can’t stop croaking and the stars can’t stop twinkling. We are listening to a couple of songs out loud, we are laughing at drunks and random people, Kisses as of two angels, hand in hand as of two oceans, smiles and laughs as of the roars of a dozen comets, I have to leave, anguish in both our eyes and the grip between our hands is tight now, hard to let go.
2. It’s on the eve of closing school in semester 1.1, you are alone in the hostels, I come over and ask you if you want to talk about  what it is you are going through, you push me hard, I storm out softly and not even say goodbye, in the air smidgen whispers are heard, we can’t let go
3. Its 15 April I guess, the sun is scorching, the air is stuffy, the shower hot, we both smell fresh as candy now, you have to go, your ride arrived, we have time for a quickie, but we can’t come to terms with the fact we are leaving, thought of going back to the dungeons scares the life out of us, so I cup your cheek, deep my eyes in yours, say It will be okay, and a subtle kiss to assure both of us it will, can’t look at you go, letting you go is apical twainly.
   

I understand a lot about where you come from, you have opened up to me enough to get a hang of ‘why’ questions. My life since birth has been of struggles, diseases and other deficits but all through my parents love has walked us through a lot of stuff and has salvaged a lot of items from the dragons breath of ice; I mean all my life I have seen and felt love from my family that my hearts has become a streetwalker. Good thing is that that makes me a good person under given circumstances, bad thing is that that makes my heart a loose lock.
What I love about you is a lot; that you give credit where it is deserved, give chances a way to start and see where it will lead to, you toil with other people minds; you know, as you call it a psychopath, I love how you open up to me, how you let me in so that I can unwind a few tangled knots inside you, how you listen to me, how you gently you choose list is endless.
Waking up next to you, sleeping next to you, walking next to you, cooking next to you, well you cooking and I spooning and getting you horny and making the wall a bed, taking a bath with you, brushing your teeth, laughing and taking pictures of you pooping, going for shopping with you, discussing stuff with you, the sex, the funny laughter, getting high on coffee, unearthing each other’s manic heights, tickling …
It’s not only about love when honeymoon ends, it’s about care and affections, daily ablutions off of pain and problems, it’s about holding hands, it’s about tasting the waters on all corners, it’s about switching TV channels of our lives. But the love still lingers around and around, can be seen, neither hidden nor blinded, clear as crystal, sunlit but blizzards hit hard, and sometimes, as strong as it is, it swiftly falls down dead seemingly lost off the face of earth.
I love you I do, I have proven to you more than any normal person could say the expected number of words in a day, I care about you and your life, I miss making love to you dawn till dusk, I miss talking with and listening to you openly without setbacks and am patient, or I used to be; can’t say more now, but I can ask you to let me love you, let me make you fall in love with me once again, to let me delicately select the pieces thought of dead to you.
It doesn’t end when I break, it ends when closed doors stay shut, and no one wills to find a key, or break the door. I never break, I just slip into a dark place, not as so to get your arse out, but to find me before I find you. I’ll find you snow white, I know I will again.