Do I want to ask you to stop, stay? Talk to me. Yes, I do want that, way too often. Almost every time you say you are sleepy. Yet can’t put you through long nights when your body needs rest. It doesn’t have to be like that. I am wrong, doing something against natural order. Willing you to talk to me, willing you to be around me when I’m not even ready to think about what if, if you will start expecting the same?
Maybe you won’t. That’s the only saving grace. Or is it? May be it’s just me brewing all the fancies while you are just being entertaining someone crazy at the other end. Do I have misgivings about what we have? Yes. Am I giving into this risk? Yes, hell I am. I want to explore what I am doing what I want, what is it my heart seeks.
I am going abashed, shamelessly for what I want. I have sensed that uneasy longing for you. I tend to lose contact with myself most of the time. I’m not that careless. I’m tight and rigid in my shell, never letting what is not required and never letting out what is deep within my being. Yet your presence is like I am treading on a slippery plane. And I don’t even know what you feel; would you be there to slip your arm around me to hold me tight. Are you even aware of my presence? These are the questions I’m not intending to ask you. I’m just assuring myself.
Do you know, I have always been blamed for my elephant size ego? Where does that go when it comes to you? I keep telling you what I feel about what I feel about you and you respond in monosyllables?
And, yes those monosyllabic responses drive me mad, so much so that I don’t want to talk to you ever. But, all this holding myself back is in vain because I’ll talk to you again and again. Even when I don’t know what is it that you want?
I sense you. I try to picture you from the words as limited as they may be.
It’s like weaving my life in that infinitesimal web of imagination where you are what I want you to be.
Do you think about me, picture me, feel me, or sense me around? The answers, I may never get to know.
I am ready for the sin. I’m ready for letting myself run wild. You just have to ask. You know that.
Sometimes, you let me know, let me have the rare glimpse of what you feel about me. That’s wonderful. That’s one moment when I feel the rush of blood in my veins, rasp in my breathing. Those symbolic kisses, those words of endearments they make me cling to this fragile hope. Hope, for what I don’t know what I’m expecting. I don’t even wish to know. It’s just that I want you to be you with me and feel for me maddeningly, passionately.
Never have I told anyone about what I want. With you it’s different. You are like a dream, like a subtle fragrance that touches and tingle my body softly saying, “I’m here to stay.”
Stay in those dark moments when you want to be you, when there is nothing that rile up your thoughts. You flow like a serene stream. You are so beautiful like that. I dreamt once of you, sitting beside me, the sound of your voice was like stream flowing silently humming a song of love which has never been spoken of. How I wish to be that voice ringing within you.
And, while I think about you I slip in and out of dreams. Dreams that makes me home with you.
So this is it, I’ll let you go, though you were never tied up yet I had been looking up, checking after every few minutes. This madness needs to go.
But, as the Joker said, “As you know, madness is like gravity…all it takes is a little push.”
These Goodbyes, I keep sending your way without you being aware of them, seems to me are on redial.