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I have millennium things to say to you and a millennium reasons not to…
Well, time is very quiet for those who wait and swift for who are scared
I do hold up to set myself up
I do hold up to arrange each letter, each word in the most delightful path as could be expected
I do wait for the sundial to parade me the correct time for the beginning
And yes I am scared…
I’m scared of the memories we create, the moments we share
What if the colors in your mind’s eye wind up dark for eternity?
What if your inner being quits accepting my feelings?
What if the appreciation of my words fades away in no time?
What if the silence takes it over?
Not the silence of your voice, but the silence, the peace you create within me when you talk…
But yes, I do not want my dairy to have blank pages conveying things left inferred…
Regardless of how thunderous the days are, time is kind enough to let you have a bit extra to scroll through all over the hill conversations
Some say- it’s the eye contact which brings the spark
I say it’s the “soul contract”
Some stories begin with just one glance
And maybe it’s the handwritten letters and the handmade gifts which creates the essence in the most unique way
People say some of the best conversations start in the dead of night
Ah yes, it did…
It’s not always the sugar coated words which draws in the spirit because some stories are all about depths
Depths created by alluring expressions
Depths created by sensations, the vibes
This is how it all started…
In between those unnumbered likes and comments, her eyes were in search of just one single name
His smile was an oddity: it beamed dazzling on the cloudiest of her days
Yes! she had already fallen for him
Hey there, you’re my desired notification
When you say I’m your world, I say you’re my life
When you ask which is the kind of puzzle you can spend hours on, I say it’s you, you’re the puzzle I’ll spend a lifetime solving, gladly
He owned the phone, she owned the gallery
She owned the gallery, he owned the folders
He owned the recording lists, she owned the voice notes…
She was the muse, he the author
Every time he wrote a new tale, she got a new name
His lens made her feel beautiful even when she wasn’t
Being close, hours felt like seconds
And being apart, days felt like years
To her, her human diary was him
Time is very long for those who bewail
And short for those who jubilate
But certainly eternal for those who love…
So sparkling the flames cauterized in our hearts that we created each other in the dark…
Earlier Published here.
Image Source – Pexels
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