That touch which is so very You, that has the ability to fill the room with laughter and lovesick marks on the sheets- it makes me want to do things. It makes me want to take a leap into the future, rewrite the possibilities and replace order and perfection with chaos, imperfection, secrets and complete disorder. It makes me want to mix all the colours and melt the crayons thereafter. It makes me want to remove Time and float into an illogical space, with no chronology and no sense of loss.
***
One of those self-confessional days. I have been in love with the same person for the last four years. There are no compulsions, no promises... just the presence. Sometimes physical, sometimes in a figment of imagination. She calls it my inability to come to terms with reality. I call it the reality. I am here. He is here. We're not together but we're here. We're here! Right here!
***
One of those self-confessional days. I have been in love with the same person for the last four years. There are no compulsions, no promises... just the presence. Sometimes physical, sometimes in a figment of imagination. She calls it my inability to come to terms with reality. I call it the reality. I am here. He is here. We're not together but we're here. We're here! Right here!
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