Posting secrets

Of course I am scared. Just how much, is my secret.


Will you come? Somewhere I think I stopped waiting.


You see my smile. And you think there's so much hurt below. I like what you think more than what I really am. Makes me feel so much deeper.


All my time is spent with you. And I like it so. Just that I like complaining too. 'I hardly have the time to do anything else'. But really, there is nothing else.


I don’t tell you how beautiful I think you really are. Sounds very overrated. But it really isn't. You are more.


Every thing you don’t tell me, scares me more than all things you have told me. My assumptions are worse than reality. Wonder what life I’m living.

The tip of the horizon

An abandonment like a washed shore. Frothy remnants of something gone. A few shells left back like scars on otherwise uniform skin.

Missing someone forms a dull ache that you learn to live with.

This year I missed you a little less than the year before. And gradually I'll stop remembering to miss you. The heart is a traitor, a sellout for reasons of expedience.

I must've loved the rain. But it was you who made me realize it. When the first unexpected summer rain fell, mother and I ran out to pick the clothes from the line. Mother even in that moment of urgency, sanity always her being, insisted on flinging a cloth over our bare heads. You tugged mine off and asked me to enjoy the rain. You told it was beautiful and it was a shame to watch it through soggy layers. It was. It still is.

It was you who pointed out the stars in the sky and told me their names. Sleepy eyes hardly got it registered. But I always knew you would be there the next night to tell me their names all over again. How foolish was I. Never again will I see a tomorrow except when I see it.

I've actually forgotten you. Most of you. You stay however in stories I tell people. In smells and nostalgia. You stay in the empty space that you left behind.