To Her.

I know that my chapter in your life is very short — like the early morning dew drop that sizzles and turns to vapor in its vain attempt at fighting the sun rays.

Love has always meant different things to me — when I loved you (I still do), I could not think of anything beyond just being with you — eating together in run-down shacks (boy, you could eat two plates of biriyani by yourself), taking those night walks together, staring into each other’s eyes, holding hands for eons, lying together on the terrace, looking up at the starry night sky and making up stories of the stars, and the galaxies, and the constellations . . .

I’ve learnt to admire beauty — the imperfections — the brokenness that is beyond repair. Like guitar chords that are snapped but can still play beautiful music. I’ve watched you with pride — as you sang your song, and danced to the wild tunes of your imperfections. I’ve loved you for it, for being you . . . just you.

We’ve spent months together — 24 hours. 7 days a week. . . and, I’ve only grown more in love with you, each and every day. All the times we have slept together. I don’t mean making love — just sleeping. Together. Under a blanket. Your head on top of my chest — your hair in a mess and nestled right under my lips — and you…listening to my heartbeats that lulls you to sleep.

. . . and when the sunrays filter through the windows to wake us up in the morning, you’d still be asleep — and I’ll kiss you — on your forehead and on your shoulder blades . . . and, you’d always know it — a tiny smile will show its signs at the corner of your mouth — and I’ll kiss it — gently — lest it disturb your sleep. You remind me of how foolish I have been to think life needed much much more than just this.

I feel the pain of our separation and I can’t share it with anyone else. We loved in secret — no pictures together, no proclaiming to friends, to relatives, to the world. It was just you and me. Just like the good old times. The Instagrams, the Facebooks, the Twitters . . . that wasn’t what we lived for. We lived for each other. That sufficed. But, now as I feel the pain . . . I can’t do anything else but watch it break my heart apart. Excruciatingly.

To the world, you were just a friend to me. 
To me, you were my friend and everything else.

You’ve ripped me apart and left. Abruptly.
And yet . . . I think a part of me will always be waiting. 
For you.

Till we meet again . . . very soon.

RIP, darling. 
May the heavens bless you.