Just look at me (A letter)

It was in the night, like the last three nights, when we stopped talking. The last time we did, it ended with her crying. It started with her crying too. I should’ve listened to her cry. Instead, I succumbed to my aching self that demanded your acknowledgment. And Now that is all I am left with. Me, myself and utter silence. What a happy bunch!

And on this night, I should settle with the sight of her body lying beside of me breathing. What a courtesy she bestowed on me. I should settle with this screaming silence. For in it, I can entertain the thoughts that lead me to this mess.

Two thousand, five hundred and fifty-five days ago, was when I last traded my story for ours.  That old person is alien to me now. I can no longer recognize a time when I could see the world with only one pair of eyes. From then I was basking in my collective happiness, yet nothing belonged to me anymore. And what a happy man I was.

Silence is my game now, Like a cactus inside me, growing feverishly. All I must, is to stop the water from my head. Give me the peace of mental death. That is what I heard myself saying in one of my long walks. What a troublesome barrage of thoughts, that were pummeling every brick of wall I have left between me and full darkness.

Though my heart is still safely sheathed in its bony castle, Something, rather someone invited a long time ago has been cleaving the cords of my soul relentlessly and without restraint.

The pain is cunning and resourceful, with an arsenal of summer smiles, evening hugs, and pure laughter. The door to my mind was wide open for this pain to gorge and have its full. The question is, will it ever?

I wake up, apparently in one bitten piece, However, what was my dearest part, had left long before I woke up. How I used to be woken up with the soft lips brushing mine. Now I have only the open window, and the chilling breeze to summon me alive.

I am an artist they say. You have to tell what you feel. My dead fingers fail to give what the heart wants to share. There are no words ever invented that could cradle the meaning of such shade of darkness.

I come back from work, hoping to find her, and to look at me one more time. I accept for her eyes to judge me for what I am. I am all but love for her and nothing more. If my words failed to touch her with that message then forever silence will be the price I pay. She holds the keys to my freedom; only she could set me free. She is my breathing madness and only for her I allow myself to be.

Overcome your hatred and let my sun rise again, for I have walked the dark valley long enough, beckon me home to you. For I seek only to be called the one by your side. I shall harbor only truth and gentle expression. For my tongue will seize to lurch to any thought’s aid. I will only be governed by love and the only beauty that is you.


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