Deuxième Partie – To the Love I Never Met

I have always reminisced about seeing reflection of your collar bone under the pale moonlight and finding myself mesmerized and in awe of your beauty but on some very special occasions like now I stood there watching clouds cover us from above and on those very nights from the cosmos they hid behind them you used to become the rain they carried. I grew older seeing you becoming the only way sky could touch this earth, the purest form of touch one could have ever experienced. You were much more than all metaphors I have associated to things I wrote about once in a while with these tired and scarred hands of mine; much more than what all I ever seemed to contain in this heavy heart as it disintegrated silently against the wind of time. Still you were all this heart ever craved for and all it ever detested at the same time and if this life were to be a deep old sea then you were all the help that could have guided my ships back when I was lost beyond the use of man-made maps but you were also the storm that could have ended all my sufferings before they could make it to the shore at once. You were the anchor that could have let me withstood the ferocious winds, the one that could have drowned all my submarines beneath. You were my one final stroke, the one on which my whole body used to shiver, the one that started as I picked the lightest shade of red from my palette slowly turning it to grey with all weight I carried; there were days when I used to to do reverse of this process but never could I change the gentleness that remains handcuffed to it.

You were something I was warned about as a child to never write with vengeance but with a soul drenched in love, with fingers that founded the a way to discover new life with each caress and gentle touch on your holy skin that I use to cover myself with as you laid closer to me. You were my dear Love, of which the simplest declarations were the stolen kisses with a pinch of whispers was neither born to be contained in between the old letters nor to be carved out on limestone that remains hidden in old forts for the drowning generations to see. It was meant to grow and decay with time, just like everything it was never born to be eternal; just a half life companion that was meant to leave me when I needed it the most.

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