It was raining when you looked me in the eye. Your presence makes me feel the best and the worst about myself. You are beautiful in peculiar ways. You are not handsome. You are not good looking either. You are just you who makes me feel things that I can’t really comprehend. I have loved you and I continue you to love you so much. But we are not meant to be, can you see it? I have been seeing it for the longest time and there is terrible looking thing called hope in between us binding us through invisible threads of time. But I see them breaking, one atom at a time. It is scary so as to how much I want to feel your heart thump against my ear and how much I want to choke you with my hands and let go of your love.
Whenever I said that you have hurt me, all you said was that it was just a bit of love. Darling does love hurts? I have been told that only allowing you in the walls of the temple will hurt and there’ll be river of red flowing but there are oceans of saline water creating waves while the heart bleeds nothing but love.
The ones who love us really know how to hurt us.
We are closer than ever yet so far apart.
I am lost in this Galaxy, don’t try to find me. I will be the star burning so bright that the light will be the cause of the death. Darkness is my prey.
And love, my weapon.
To love is the most personal thing ever. You just identify one human and make him or her the subject of your affection. We human beings are born with a heart and in this real world of fake people and transient forevers, this heart of ours gets beaten up often and we become this cold distant humans whose hearts are locked up because we are too afraid of love and feeling vulnerable. That feeling when your soul is absolutely naked in front of someone you love is unsettling, it gives you a pittish feeling in the centre of your chest and your bosom feels ached to be hugged and held tight but that doesn’t happen and you continue to live like that feeling that void and carrying it with you wherever you go. You don’t know the beloved’s heart. You may know it and it may break your heart but you still choose to keep going on feeling strange and having that heart on your sleeve because for a moment Rumi’s words heal you and you believe in universe and destiny and Ted Mosby who taught you to never give up on someone you love even when it completely destroys you and there you are smiling and going on as if nothing has happened while your heart lays exposed like never before. I have got only one thing to say here-
just own it like you have always owned it. Afterall hearts were made to be broken. Keep showing off the sleeve.
Or maybe just fade off slowly while you bleed with your heart on the sleeve. But never lock the heart inside. Never.
Finding self? We spend our lives finding selves just as the river flows without much thought breaking through the mountains diving into plains causing waterfalls in between, we unconsciously try to introspect. You think you’ve brains. But may I tell you that you have none. Your brain contains thoughts like that of an ocean in which water precipitates after processes of evaporation and condensation of waters of around the world. Your brain has little originality. Bloody plagiarised influenced thoughts.
You think you’re really finding self. Bullshit it is. Oh no, bullshit can still be dealt with. Your thoughts are more like toxic air after acidic rains. You better find spring rather than self.
Spring flowers bloom, beauty hues clear the air and show blank.
Go sit on a plank and forget yourself.
That’s how you find it.