Ours was a mysterious kind of love; the love that we did not tell to people, a love that hid under the bed when anyone walked in, the love that was too shy to be felt, heard or seen in public, the love that burnt in me, but gave him chills and finally a love that lacked the audacity to be accepted.

He was like an ice-cube filled glass of water in the scorching heat of May, he was a kiss on my lips at a cold winter night, and he was like a moving feather on my back in the early morning. He was like a million little stars in my sky and at the same time the shimmering light of the moon, and like my only hot chocolate mug. I wrote him several letters, with the fragrance of sweet alyssum, the letters that abhorred reaching him; those were the days of acrid sense which sensed the negligence from a distance, which sensed the brutality, abandoning, regrets and the obscurity of the relation.

But what wrong did I do to bear such hatred? I despise the idea of being disregarded, the idea of aimlessly following someone, chasing them in the darkest corner, on the shiniest day of may, loving them from a distance, absorbing their aura as they clutch hands with someone else and most importantly watching them go.

Well I have done this a million times. A million times he walked away from my life, a million times he ignited the love and did not stay and a million times he probed my lust and did not touch. Well that is just a metaphor to define the ecstasy of my dreams, where my thoughts take me, prevailing oblivious desires.

More often than not I ask myself, what is it that keeps me waiting? And then I mutter, mutter to myself:

It is not his presence that makes me feel better, but his absence that leaves me wanting for more;

The silence that was once my shining armor, is now screaming with a big roar

No, I would not wait; I would not wait for your love no more

Set me free and unleash my clasped wings and allow me to head offshore

Because, after all it is not easy to gulp down the fear every night, it is not easy to let loose of the only thing that you have been holding on for so long and certainly not easy to accept that your alter-ego is miles away from you. Such feelings bloats with time, they no longer remain terse and take over every phase of your life. For those who believe that the easiest thing is to run away from this, not think, not love are just suggesting you something which they have not done for themselves.

His resplendent charm became my guiding light. I’d think of him at all the times. I took him from one place to another, from classes to my home, from one state to another building, from one dairy to numerous virtual drafts and from my mind to this digital supremacy. He has always been there with me and yet I have remained so alone all the time.

My gloomiest days screamed his name; my revelry rejoiced his presence, my past crawled with his words, my present longs for his charisma, and my future stays mum. I can feel the terror and I have heard my future say that do not bring him here. It is already dreading the idea of covert actions.

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