The best thing about you is that you're very different, and ofcourse, in a good sense. You're different than anyone I know, and it would be near impossible for me to find someone else who's just like you. Well, unless I take a look in the mirror but I'm still not as perfect as you. I might be just an illustration of how you'd look like if you had any imperfections. Yeah baby, you're that perfect!
Talking to you is genuinely my favourite part of the day. It's what I wake up for and it's why I have trouble sleeping. This is too cliche, but my day literally begins with you and also ends just with you. But it's still not enough for me, whatever time I get to spend with you. It isn't enough for me and it never will be. I seriously wish we had more than 24 hours in a day.
I know I'm an addict but the high you leave me with is just on another level. It stands higher than any other addictions I've tried :) Now, I don't smoke or drink or take any drugs FYI, but I can relate to what the drunks or the stoners feel coz I'm experiencing both of that when I'm with you. Best of both worlds :) Poetry and music are the addictions I normally indulge myself in, and it gets me very high, but writing for you or listening music with you just adds another degree of high to it. Tell me, are you made up of Hennessy and LSD?
You've always been my sweet little sister here on mirakee, well not always sweet. A little annoying most of the times, but that's how sisters are right? 80% of the time, they annoy you and then you annoy them back, and I've been excellent at that. I don't think anyone annoys you as much as I do. The 20% of the time you have been sweet to me, and the combined 100% of the time, you've been there for me, cared for me. I never felt the void of not having a sister :)
l could never forget the late night rants we had, writing stupid posts and tagging each other in them, creating a mess in the comment section and repeating it again after we deleted them one by one. I even remember the one where I posted a pic of an ape and tagged you in it. I clearly won that banter. Although those posts were temporary, the memories of the good time we had are permanent. Fun times.
I've also seen you grow into a beautiful writer, from writing cute one liners to writing amazing big ones. You did surprise me with that and I'm very proud of you, not that I wasn't before. But now I have competition, little sister's all grown up!
I can't fathom your obsession for Charlie Puth and his songs. C'mon, there are better singers out there :D I know you are mad at me right now for saying that, and that's exactly what I wanted. :D But since you like him so much, here's a little something for you,
"I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I'm only one call away
Call me, if you need a friend I just wanna give you love Come on, come on, come on Reaching out to you, so take a chance
No matter where you go You know you're not alone
I'm only one call away I'll be there to save the day Superman got nothing on me I'm only one call away"
the pain that holds you captive is also a prisoner of my sanguine thoughts. As it ornates our love with vantablack, our hearts start to get darker overtime, down to their very fibre but when the bliss starts to spread in , the corners where the bleakness rests, the darkness that was painted upon us starts to fade away. like a dying star or the memories of your haunting past
the light shines within exposing the harsh wounds, that were brought upon you but the past is where all the problems rest and we have come a long way now, there's foolishness in looking back or counting your further steps it will only hurt more than what it actually did.
theres a heavy dispute between these two, one's my heart and the other's my brain, and they're debating heavily over you, the one that rules in your favour also dies to the silence of you. the other one that questions you, is unaware of the existence of emotions, but how could that be true?
Flowers, Filled with spores of darkness, Bloom within this old room, devoid of her, The dark space, now drained of warmth, Made the glass Sleeping on scarred fingers shiver, On this bed, He lay in silent dread, with memories of her resting beside him...
The crystal glass, Reflected the moonlight within it, With every swig, the light refracted his memories playing like a projector, on the wall, each memory, passed through the liver, perhaps the pain of passing through it, brought tears into his eyes, perhaps the tears going back into the glass were alcoholic, Or perhaps they weren't tears at all...
The glass seemed to refill on its own, Giving him the chance to watch his memories once again...
I want to reiterate the poem of the Rabindranath Tagore, the noble prize winner. It is the need of the hour in today's condition where the dirty politics have overshadowed radicalised wave of prosperity into wave of destruction and corruption.
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls; Where words come out from the depth of truth; Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection; Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit; Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
You can also read a poem written by me titled "Make India colorful again" here #mica_aquib