To him who may get my heart…

The day I first offered my heart to you, they said I had abandoned judgement.

I remember being rendered motionless as if chained to my bed and only my eyes being allowed to wander along with you

as the world didn’t approve of our love.

Yet I remember staring at those fogged windows and being able to see you clearly

from miles away.

We do not know each other.

But I know what love feels like as you stand in an empty hospital corridor,

spending hours staring at the white walls that turn into ghosts

who snore in high-pitched beeps

and yet demand to be cuddled

as you sleep on cold benches that smell of iodoform.

I have known what it’s like to long for someone from behind a green curtain.

We do not know each other.

Yet I know that someone somewhere longs for you this way

because they say that you have been chained to your bed too, tied to boxes with a million wires.

I have my own million wires, and as my mom tries to untangle those from the shreds that she has left of me.

she complains to my dad that I do not talk to her anymore.

She says that I no longer listen to her but if only I heard her for one last time

she will assure me that the guy I offered my heart to, must be a blessed man.

I apologize for her.

For she doesn’t know you either.

We do not know each other.

We never will,

as we are to each other distant metaphors

The kind that you do not understand because it’s in a language that you do not speak

but we were never bound by language.

Ours is to be a love bound by fragments and sutures and veins that soak my heart with your blood

and rhythms

For yours is the only rhythm that my heart now understands.

We do not know each other.

We never had that first date, that first smile, the first hug, the first kiss, the first fight.

We never had an origin story,

ours is a love tied at ends

because they tell me that you have been counting your breaths.

I hope you are not the one to be scared of numbers

As I am a girl who was once scared of broken things and one day I got so scared of having a broken heart

that I decided to put it in a box and sail it away.

But life often makes you confront your fears

It made me look over the distances that my heart sailed,

It made me confront each wave that left after the one that drowned it.

It made me count every moment that I spent under the broken waves with broken limbs and a broken faith.

I hope you are not the one to be scared of numbers

because I am.

Yet here I am counting on my fingers days that must pass

before I am shrunk to the size of my fist and sailed away for one last time.

As I once wished to leave, while hundred men played songs of beginnings

and loud trumpets muffled the voices that sang soft songs of departure

in resonance with notes of an union.

Perhaps to you I am just another note

resonating through these endless corridors

but we now have a rhythm that moves beyond the hollow walls and white screens

and pitch-black channels rushing to meet in empty boxes.

We do not know each other.

I hope you are someone who can make music from the sounds of the first breaths that break a silence

because I am a girl who finds poetry in the way a beep fades into a flatline.