To the girl who could see through my darkness when I wasn't able to
I kept holding this off as I wanted it to be perfect and as part of my procrastinating mission :)
I either had too much to write or hit writer's block
I would inescapably run out of words
No matter how much I wrote
As I decide to write this anyway
My hands shake for I long perfection
The heart and mind, only hoping
That you'd accommodate this imperfect piece too
In the beautiful jigsaw puzzle that is your life
A teeny little corner in your bookshelf would do
Just the way you let me fit in y(our) pink-room
and two years of your life
I don't come with an eloquent beginning or a breathtaking ending to this awkwardly bittersweet story
A rather pretty story (slightly more accurate:p)
I mean, I don't know if I can come up with a beautiful beginning even if I tried to
Perhaps I don't even want a perfect opening
This remains an awkward story
And this be told in a messed up manner
Was it then when your apprehensive self asked me if you could stay with me awhile?
or when we discovered that I was your ride home on a rainy mysuru evening through the inception of a conversation?
Was it when we couldn't stop laughing at that half-witted joke
until our tummies hurt and we clenched
Until we realized that the time is linear
and will keep running anyway
As a sun had risen once again
in one of those sleepless J M Residency mornings
What's a story with a perfect beginning and an all more perfect ending though
A fairytale? One of those happily-ever-afters?
or a book behind which I find my escape?
I don't want this to be an escape
I don't want this to be that candied dream which shuts down in my wake
As reality refuses to snooze
If anything, I want this to be my reality
This, my life here with you is that reality that gets me out of bed every morning
You pulled me out of an impossible tornado that I had thought would eat me up whole
You have taught me how easy it is to watch my guilty-pleasure shows without feeling faintly guilty
You have appreciated me on the days my aching mind, heart, body, and soul had given up on me
You have shown me hope when I thought the world had none
Oh, how you listen so authentically so easily!
It's superlative.
Neve once judging me for my grief or anguish
So religiously joining me in the dark corner
and sitting there with me
As I count the number of cuts on my body and tiles on the floor
Holding my hand and never let as much as a finger untie our grip
When the world became torture to live in
You gave me a breath of fresh air
A feeling of home
A whiff of coffee
A tiny scrap of faith that things might change
That I can still get my life together
Should I just talk about your temple that shines each time you smile?
Should I tell you how uplifting your "Vorsho"s are?
Even the taste of my own medicine tastes good
As your delicate words sound like a melody
Sorry, not sorry
For all the jokes that you have to want to endure
And laugh at
For the rest of our trip
I love you
I miss you
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