3 Days

I would have never believed if someone sometime had told me that to know you and fall in love with you, all it will take is 3 days.

When I first saw you, the world turned yellow and the other things grey, what was it, how did it happen. That’s a conundrum for the suicide squad to figure out I think.

It started with your name, 4 syllables and a smile can cast such a spell, even Medusa fears your power, milady.

I approached you and later you told me, it was gutsy, I really appreciate men doing that, but for me it was a rare Pokémon I was trying to trap in my last Pokeball but alas, how would you know.

I’ve a thing for ethnic I told her, and ethnic she was wearing the day we first met, and her earrings, my goodness, these things to you all might seem child like, but to me it works as a love potion which is as strong as Amortentia and as surreal and humbling as watching a double rainbow in your life for once.

Then we started talking, you hated coffee, I loved it, you get repelled by sports, I can play football for hours, I was fond of the rain, you found it intolerable. Do you see any hope in this conversation turning sweet? Because I didn’t, there was no crack in the wall for the light to pass this time.

Then gradually we started walking, and maybe the endorphins did their magic or the lane, the sun started to rise and I began to feel the warmth. You were smitten with drummers, I was luckily one. We both loved the colour blue and I wanted to swim in the blue of your eyes. But I think, the endearment for Green Tea was the real ice breaker.

Daily to meet you I used to drive 20 miles, but thinking about our first kiss and the warm hug, the travel was made pretty smooth, I must say, I was hooked onto you like an addict to its supply of heroine, the only difference was this time, it used to directly hit the heart and the high was such, to sleep was to dream and to dream was to think just about you, mademoiselle.

You teach blind kids, lifting the darkness in front of their eyes, but I don’t know why when I used touch you it was like reading a set braille code saying you’re only mine, my love.

Your fear of dying old and the attraction towards the idea to die young struck me like a devils wish. Sylvia Plath being your favorite poet and cigarettes being your best friends, I think I was just reduced to the flame of the lighter in your pocket, inessential but necessary.

You are a painter, you paint canvases from dreams which erupts inside your heart, like the beauty of the first tear from your eyes and the flowery fragrance of your perfectly chiseled body and something as mesmerizing as a call of a nightingale for her lover.
 Paint me in one of your canvases as a tigress looking for her Cubs, as an eagle protecting her nest, a peacock dancing under the rain, as a shoe without a shoelace, and monkey’s doing kick flips and raccoons mischievously stealing someone’s dinner.

You couldn’t get attached to people, meaning it wouldn’t matter if the next day we aren’t together, shattered my heart to pieces, and maybe this time I never wanted to pick them up. It’s you, I understand, you also have a thing for women, it was honest of you to be upfront with me and I can only say thanks to you for being you and not an expired passport waiting to be thrown away in a bin. But seeing your love for women, I wish I had been born a girl. #ihavealwayslovedoriginality

Then suddenly it all ended. You made the call. I complied, it’s fair to say I wanted more, because Neruda love it was and all I wanted to do to you was what spring does to cherry trees, that was the idea when I knew you were the one. But, such is life, victims without faults, if such black swans there be, black sheep, shit street, where did you go my love?