You are Here

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 List of things I did till you were not here:

I. I broke all the clocks and watches that can put a time-stamp on my waiting. 

II. I engaged in small-talks with my nightmares.

III. I chose a particular feature of you and wrote down a line about it. Everyday. ( His half-moon shaped scar at the edge of the jaw is made of forgotten cravings.)

IV. I practiced silent screams. It's a beautiful art if you can muster it well. 

V. I shushed the green-faced goblins that reside in me. I told them stories about us.

VI. I tore up each book that I finished, made river boats out of the papers, and set them afloat. To the non-believer, I snapped: "These would carry me to him".

VII. I tattooed your name on that part of my body where sunlight has never kissed. 

VIII: I watched fireflies filling up our garden. So I set it ablaze. ( don't tell me you never got a whiff of the ashes?)

IX: I threw the dried roses in my notebook into the dustbin. 

X. I made this list.

Now you are here.


April 18, 2015

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