"Remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it."
- Suzanne CollinsI could keep running back to you. What's bound to happen, will; no matter how hard you try to change the course of planets, they'd still be rotating and would still be on their axis. I could literally sit and stare at your beauty for hours, and the beautiful part is that you'll let me. Those scars. They ooze your sensuality, your strength, your determination, your loyalty. The ones that run deep within - I want to trace them with my fingers like on a Braille. So that they narrate their own legend. I like you, at times, and I feel I know you at times, so I'm not going to let go off you, as of now. Of course, one can't measure love by the amount of words exchanged. Unfair, it would be, wouldn't it? We do talk - it's only that we say very little. Your sins? I might hate them, but I can't simply deny that I'm in love with the sinner. I'm more you than myself. Does that mean our souls are comprised similarly? Maybe. I hear them singing the same song. Like the words that you say, the words that belong to your mouth, I belong to you. I know I come with certain pre-conceived notions, some confusions. But I don't sweat. I bleed. So I'll not cover your stench with mine, but surely colour you love. A lot of it. One breath of you, and you lasted in my veins longer than the air I inhaled in my deepest of sleeps. I run high on you, on your flavour, your strength, your sheer magnanimity. Let me break through the mandible of your ribs. The place where you've been hurt - let me reach there, I know I can cure it. Because I want you to change the way you see yourself in the mirror, not how you perceive me. I want to imprint you with me. Let me touch those scars. I can hear them sob. Let me love them, calm them, choose them. I might be insignificant against your magnanimous beauty, but I don't care how altered people think you are. You still are mine. I feel you live between my breaths and heartbeats. Look at me, just. Eyes have a language of their own. Let me rest my head on your heart. I want to hear it beat, or would you stop the beat too for the mere sake of it? I'll be thirsty for you, always. I fell deeper for you while you went away. You might light the fire, but come, I'll teach you its game. It's not your voice, but the melody of it. Not what you contain in that body, but what you do with it. You are a story, a living, breathing story I yearn to complete but just can't. You're my hard truth.
"'After all this time?'
- J.K. RowlingOf course, there's a better life. But I like flaws. Your passion sets me alight. Don't try too hard to listen to your own beats, they might like to be silent at times. You were that light which just went rushing across my darkened path. And I was blinded by it - but it didn't matter, because from then on, my love for you wasn't a because, it became a no matter what. In a parallel universe, everything I say makes sense. You are ordinary in this world of madness. It just makes you extraordinary in your own bloody way. I'm not going to let just one word break my faith in you, after the thousand times you said in your sleep that you loved me. I'm not perfect. And perfection doesn't guarantee purity. Purity is the thought, the intention. Purity is you. I can't live without needing you. You're the dance which replays the music in me when it dies. The moment you left, it was the darkest blasphemy. My anger wasn't my retaliation. It was only my desperation to hold onto you, to have you as mine for a little more longer. Your face, when you walked away, is imprinted in my blood, for life. Of all the beauty I've seen in life, yours is the one I feel.
"'Why are you here? All of you?'
'We never left'"
- J.K. Rowling