It is an evening of silences,
but how do I forget the nights that seemed moments,
as we talked till the dawn ?
I find it hard to look into your eyes,
I always have this nervousness to strange places,
are no longer mine.
when were you?
Why should you?
I always knew that someday,
we will eventually apart.
You know how my habit of constantly imagining endings is, right ?
I actually crafted the whole scenario,
with possible possibilities,
but not this.
Everything, but not this.
And I don't know what is more scary?
The fact that I lost you,
before it was meant to be.
Or the certainty,
that may be I was not "enough" to hold,
and you were "too much".
You are the kind, dear mate,
that people tell stories about.
the silver lining or the last ray of hope,
kind of people.
The way you brighten the face of others,
just by existing.
The thing is,
I too ended up having stories only.
Which is to say,
I could not be a character in my favourite book.
But I feel content,
when I look at us closely.
Thank God !
you didn't become mine.
You chose to keep a distance,
and I think it was the best decisions you made for us.
I destroy things that belong to me.
And the only way for "us" ,
to save you,
was being on opposite sides of that line.
I look at you,
and I fail.
I fail to let our eyes meet,
yet how do I forget the times,
when we didn't utter a word and everything was said !
So tell me, pal,
what am I to you ?
What is the string called that no longer holds on,
but refuses to let go with its last strand?