Scream.

You were silent.
I heard.
You are speaking.
Why can't I hear?

Don't tell her

Don’t tell her I drink tea and like it with less drama in it. Don’t tell her I got dirty little habits. I would like it if you omit me from the conversation completely. Don’t tell her how I haggle even for a fifty. Don’t tell her anything about me absolutely.

Don’t tell her I loved to sleep with your smell on my skin after every fuck. Don’t tell her how I do not smell like her. Don’t tell her I was your best friend and worst enemy. Don’t tell her how I used to get angry. I can’t imagine anyone knowing me more than you. Of course I can’t stand her knowing you better than me.

Don’t show her the places we went together and the places we could not. Don’t tell her how I used to climb on you and sing-songs, pull your hair and abused the Leons and the Brandons. Don’t tell her that I was a jealous, mean little girl. Don’t show her my faults. Don’t tell her how I used to sleep late and wake up at noon. Don’t tell her how I used to call agony home. Does she know I like brown towels and expensive toileteries? Does she know I am full of scary human imperfecions and follies?

What if we meet around the street someday? I would like to be in my best. But what if I look worn out, tired, burdened and wasted? Don’t hide it that I was yours someday. Don’t tell her all our stories and secrets but do tell her- “She had loved me going out of her ways.”

Don’t tell her how I have always waited for the fall. Don’t tell her I had loved to be lonely, insecure and went on biting my peace while waiting for her to return. I knew all the way she would. ALSO, don’t tell her that I lost because she won.

Baby.

A letter to YOU at 5.47am in a Thursday morning. Of a tedious week. After a sleepless night. 2 lattes. Few fried nuggets and a heavy dose of pop-music.

Dear "you know who you are",

It took me just 17 days and a few mid-night chats to fall in love with you.
It took me a month to respond to your lips.
It took me a year to know that you are in love.
It took me a year and a half to see my home in your eyes.
It took me a year and six months to realise I can wake up for you and make breakfast and coffee.
It took me a year and seven months to understand that I can't sleep sound without hearing you snoring.
It took me a year and eight months to learn that the butterflies in my heart still flutter bad every time we meet.
It took me a year and nine months to believe that I could trust everything I distrusted just to make you happy.
It took me a year and ten months to spot myself washing your tee-shirts and pressing them.
It took me a year and eleven months to know that I could burn my finger while cooking your favorite dish.
It took me two years to know that probably you are where I need to finally stop.
It took me two and a half to know that loving someone was not all that easy.

But it took me just a split of a second to realise today-

I am still beautiful because you loved me. The birds still sing because you sang to me. The roads still lead to the destinations because you have been the destiny. The coffees still taste alright because its with your name I still start my mornings. The prayers still reach my God because you instilled Faith in me. I still wake up, breathe and live it up alright because you made life happen to me.

Yours,
2 years and 8 months old relationship.

At 22

---> There's blankness for splits of seconds and all go hazy.
---> No excitement, no feeling of "looking forward to".
---> Others' existence just seems like "oh alright!".
---> Gone mean. Very mean.
---> Have started feeling- "why, why, why?"
---> Wants to revise. Set the chart. Check the agenda of life.
---> Feels emotionally disconnected to every thing.
---> Do not want what is there, do not even want what is not there.
---> What is "time for yourself"? and okay, once you have it, what should one exactly do with it?
---> Life is beautiful. But, what is the purpose? Just curious. What shall be the next step?
---> Grown quite. There are a lot of questions within. Pauses. Stills.
---> Few boundaries uncrossed. To cross, not to cross? When to cross?
---> There's happiness, there's joy but there's nothing nothing extra- ordinary in anything. Feeling of been  there, done that. Funny! Age problem but how to address it?
---> Likes to just stare, stare and stare.
---> Vision blurred when stare at a thing for long. Feels in trance. Not normal. Psychological blurring.
---> Wants someone to take charge but how and why? Would that make happiness?
---> Does not feel sad, even. No sadness at all. What the hell is wrong!

Reversed

When sane:

- You with 69 was I when 22 was I. 22 was I when 69 was I. 

When insane:

- I was 69 when I was 22. I was 22 when I was 69 with you.

You know the answer?

The same old question- 

Where shall I go?

1. to the left where nothing is right?
2. to the right where nothing is left?

1 is correct, 2 is right!

Your daughter...

I know exactly how she is going to look when she is eleven. She would have your eyes and get my skin. Her smile would be mine but heart would be yours. She would have your shoulder but my wings. She would speak like me but think like you. Her lips are going to be mine. Her speech, yours.   

She would be a lover like you and be loved like me.                                         
Her fingers would be mine but palm, that of yours. 
Dark hair, sunshine.

She would contemplate with open eyes.
She would never have nightmares like either of us. 
No lines on her forehead as she grows old. 
She would toss in white and roll in green. 

She would be my alpha and your omega.

She would wear your favorite color- 
on  her first birthday and finger the first slice of cake 
For you. 
She would be your morning, night, and evening star.

She would nimble on your food and kiss you every time you cocoon her in your arms. Her eyes would search for you everywhere. She of course would not know how to comb her hair and you would mess it up further. She would be 15 and chop it all. You would dig your face in my arms and say "This is not what I wanted at all."

She would bring her first school trophy to you. She would say "This is for you."

She would give her cold glance when you say "No" to something. She would hate it every time you would object to a boy-friend of her's coming home. She would sneak out in your car and sing "I am a gypsy" high and low. You would see through her little, cunning lies yet let her go.

She would come to me whenever she feels angry and I would end up making her feel angrier. I would continue to suck and you would keep healing both of us.

She would cry over a torn dress and I want to see you hug her. The touch of your hand would make her believe, she can never fall apart.

In 18, she would fall in love and have her heart broken. Her heart breaks would get her going. She would become a woman  slowly and I would see you grow old. Grey, thin hair, pajamas rolled- but still you would be my man with deep eyes and this mysterious soul.

She would roll on your depth and toss on your peace. She would have the best of everything. She would be yours and she would be mine. She would be ours, she would be life.

She would be your Rubaiyat to Allah and my prayer to God. She would be the life we lived for, we loved.