I have unsaid words, thoughts and speeches beating the size of the universe that I am dying to tell you, but conversations with you are just instances of my imagination now. They are no longer ‘our thing’.
I have very little, childish and obstinate desires which you never fulfilled but I kept desiring anyway. I want to stay within as close a proximity as possible to you, so close like the air that fills your lungs with new hope for survival and leaves them with the burden of life. I want to be the oxygen that keeps you alive.
You know, I have developed a very annoying habit of keeping lists — lists that don’t make sense anymore, lists that don’t matter anymore. I compare things from the past to the present but nothing much seems to have changed, except the dinner take-outs for just one person now. Almost everything has remained constant, thankfully, except the laundry that I now do for exactly one person. Thankfully.
When you mix red with blue, a new colour is born — purple, just like my invisible bruises. Vary the ratios of red and blue, you’ll end up with a pallet full of different shades of purple. I tried to give myself to you in varying proportions, hoping that you will cover the rest up, but in my attempt to make ‘us’ complete, I lost you completely.
No, no, no. Don’t think for a single second that I miss you or am complaining about your lack of sincere endeavours. I am just imagining a dream where I’m finally acknowledging my efforts and confessing all that is within my heart and giving up the last shred of my pride.
You are missing from me.