1.He teaches me things ; the things I've missed as a child playing hide n' seek. A child who grew up so suddenly that it didn't get any time to undo its blindfold . I wonder if everytime he stooped his head parallel to mine and rested it in my shoulder just to take a glance of how things appear from where I see , so he could help me rectify my eye conditions later.
2 .He wishes me goodnight , I sleep with his love . With his lessons , put aside my bed to decaffeinate my insomniac nights. But in the morning , I get up dumb again ; needy , grasping for shallow theories to infuriate the dubious obvious . Keeping all that I've been taught , book-marked while strolling down newer pages of disarray. I wonder if everytime he did put his fingers between mine just to know how many paper cuts they've survived till then ,so he could help me put ointment of hope and survival there later.
3.Words are still just words you know , if not taken like some "do or die" speech . And When I am with him , I never have the righteous need to write poetry . occasionally I would run my fingers round whimsical realities to create prototypes for future reference.
_krish , on being grateful in love , being grateful and being in love