Stories

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Did you know?

How would you?

I used to think you’d be busy with something or the other 

So I kept a lot of stories of mine to myself

And kept cooking up stories in my head regarding you

The storm that I had in me

The typhoons of making you feel sheltered

Loved and guarded

Have come to a standstill

I am glad that I never cultivated a habit of seeing you

In things and in other people

Because in your appreciation

You are magnificent

And I don’t want you to be anything short of the same

I don’t feel the urge to cup your face anymore or

The urge to keep staring at you

I have spent a very large fraction of the very little time we ever had with each other scanning you

You are duly copied in my memories

And the ink used is in-erasable

I have burned so much on the inside

That even if you set it on fire it would hardly make any difference because I am resistant to it

I am glad that I was raised up such that I won’t need people when the nights are cold and the days are sunny

I have seen a lot of empty hallways and have lived them all

I have been in a dark room with its door locked and just a sun lit window to stare at until the evening comes

Do you see what I am hinting towards?

I don’t believe in finding a lover but building up one

Irrespective of the place or the situation

My compassion knows no bounds

You are one of my establishments

I can’t kiss someone until it’s my own creation

But I still take a chance and regret it later for letting someone suck on my lips like a vacuum machine

What I write isn’t always something serious

You know how comic I am

Or do you?

And cynical at the same time

It’s funny how I don’t end up writing about things that killed me inside

Literally, killed me

Because I don’t want you or anyone else die of the burden that something mean they have done is kept written somewhere and would prevail for decades to come

I suggest you read this over and over again

I don’t trust the universe with us ever sitting in its vicinity and sharing a few stories of your childhood which you once mentioned you would share

But sigh!

This was my very affable effort to cunningly put my stories in your pocket

Take it or leave it

Who cares anymore?

Oh! See, I can also be sarcastic.

 

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