Cars silently parked in garages, shutters of shopps pulled down,
As if the world had just closed its eyelids,
I tried to sleep, but fake yawns just bring in more tears to one’s eyes.
My eyes were glued to the long lost sight of yours,
Playing the guitar in the corner of the bedroom.
I told my mind, “Sleep. He has already slept.”
But my mind whispered, “Maybe somewhere in the city, he is scrolling down his facebook feed, as the notification rings in his phone, that today’s your birthday, and a tear drops from his saturated eyes on the mobile screen, revealing each and every pixel of your face.”
A kaleidoscope of memories flashes in my mind; I try my best to forget him,
My heart ached and was sore; it was thirsty for his love,
It nudged me and shouted, “How do you know, his silence isn’t a metaphor for his love?”
But I knew myself the best, and I knew, heartbreak, is what makes us believe, we need love again,
Despite every agony, every grief and pain.
As ocean waves suck away all the sand from the beach, but surely deposits them again, but with shells and corals,
He stole my heart, and ran away, but when he returned it back to me, it was scratched and ruined, broken, and slit by blood stained daggers.
All he made me feel, I was pebble, getting kicked every time I hoped for some love.
Wherever he is, maybe, for me, he still resided in the old, pinkish-yellow, scented cards he had given,
In the songs, which he had sung, beneath the persimmon tree in his garden, making me fall in love with a band I never liked.
He told me every evening, “Babe, our love is perfect.”
And now I have realized, that nothing is perfect, maybe that’s why this love had been nothing.
I have moved on, have tuned the strings of the guitar, he had ruined, but every time I play the chords of my favourite song, I feel as though I was just another string on his guitar, that he played.
You taught me to laugh a little more than I did before you came,
Cry a little more after you went,
You taught me to love you more than my heart could afford,
But you just forgot, to teach me the most important thing for me,
Babe, just tell me once, “How can I live without you? What can I do to be the only flower in your garden?”
Because without these answers I can do nothing but read our conversations like chemical formulas in the chemistry book, and wondering why you read my messages but never reply to them now.
I had spent three years, trying hard, to find who he really was, his hobbies, his cuisine, his favourites.
They say, time erases every wound.
But why isn't time effacing him, the biggest wound in my life?
I don’t miss him.
I miss how I could open up everything in my mind, to him.
I miss a shoulder to cry upon,
I miss having huge phone and internet bills,
I miss chocolates and flowers every evening.
But in the end, I heave a sigh, skip a heartbeat, and again rub my fingers over his face in my phone’s wallpaper and say, “I miss you.”
And the worst part wasn’t in losing him, but in losing me.