It has been three weeks now, Since I ran away From a house which was fast becoming a home A broken one, albeit. But you know me I've a knack for things which do not fit. See me today? I'm doing the one thing I should've kept away from When I left.
Writing. Writing down my feelings. About.. Nevermind. You see, writing is your thing. Mine is to ask dumb questions as I try to break the ice, like 'So what do you write about?'
But here I am trying to run away From you, Only to cope with it in your way.
Remember? The first (and last) time we went out for lunch Together. When the winter sun knew to kiss the leaf gently.. All I saw in your eyes was 'Am I ready for this? Is there something else I want? What do I want exactly??'
I have been asking myself the same Lately.
I saw in your eyes that day The disgust for the stars which aligned, but the hearts that couldn't. Or maybe, With you,it was only the stars. It was me who sighed at the hearts.
I don't know how you see me, In your eyes.. I would have seen me as a hopeless romantic. But That's not true. I don't see hope I don't I know we'll have to let go of this pretence Which you've left long back But I couldn't.
See, you're brave. I am not. As a kid I held onto toys which broke Not in hope, but Finding it difficult to let go. Sometimes, rarely, sometimes, I wish I could be you.
You would, perhaps, laugh at me If you saw me now.. Or, be deafening quiet. It's hard to say. I do not know you AT ALL, in six months even. Sometimes I wish I knew you a little more, So it would've been easier, To think of you a little less.