\u201cI\u2019ll wait.\u201d I\u2019ve been telling her since the past twenty days. Truthfully, I\u2019ve been telling myself this for these excruciating, painful, empty, and bleak twenty days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I remember her face when she said \u201cLater<\/a>.\u201d I remember how amazed I was in that moment\u2014 by her randomness. A trait I adore. Countless cities await the imprints of her beautiful feet alongside mine. I\u2019ll etch that word in those cities with my bare hands as she etches those memories in my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because she wants me to ruin her, but stay with her after I\u2019m done. There\u2019s love because I made her cry on 13th and asked her after a few minutes\u2014at the stroke of midnight\u2014\u201cWill you be my Valentine\u2019s<\/a>, my luv?\u201d. There\u2019s love because I\u2019ll probably end up killing her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I\u2019ll watch her move her hips when she cooks for me. I\u2019ll watch her quirks, I\u2019ll listen to her songs, and I\u2019ll watch her stir\u2014the highest kind of poetry. I\u2019ll notice if she does anything strange<\/a>\u2014\u2014amused\u2014I\u2019ll note it down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because my heart will ache<\/a> again. She will be confused. She won\u2019t know what to do, and she\u2019ll end up doing what I love. She\u2019ll sit beside me and say absolutely nothing. She won\u2019t be my cure\u2014but she\u2019ll hold me as I die, slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I\u2019ll have to hide the stabs<\/a> again. I despise sympathy. There\u2019s love because I\u2019ll be irritated. She\u2019ll be angry. She won\u2019t understand. I\u2019ll smile, concealing the pain. She\u2019ll smile back, concealing the concern.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I loathe everything that reminds me of her and everything that doesn\u2019t. I smile at the reminders<\/a> now that I know she\u2019s so close. They\u2019ll still be reminders. Reminders of those bleak 22 days. I\u2019ll hold them close to my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I\u2019m reminded of her and it\u2019s raining outside. I love the rain<\/a> because it makes me contemplate my decisions. I love the rain because I see tiny, gentle raindrops falling on the ground as the yellow light reflects on the puddle. Beneath her tiny fingers, me\u2014under a giant cloud with all the world\u2019s rain falling gently.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I went through another difficult test in my life. The fact that I\u2019m still alive tells me I did well. I\u2019m fucking good at tests. But this Aazmaish<\/a>, this dreadful fast, even though I had food and water, felt like I was almost always close to death. My death\u2014My luv.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I know when I get feverish<\/a> nowadays. I don\u2019t wait for her to tell me I have fever. She\u2019ll find out if I\u2019m okay or not, instantly, or sometimes not at all\u2014I admire her ability to nurture, and her ability to miss out on the obvious. I love her through all of that\u2014like I loved her in those seven days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I\u2019m keeping to myself. I\u2019m keeping what makes me upset, I\u2019m keeping my problems inside, and I\u2019m keeping this longing<\/a> for her love in my heart. Through all of this, I laughed \u2014like a man. I smiled\u2014 like a friend. I pretended\u2014 like a sane fool. All this while I yearned her presence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I realised how I had to change my routine<\/a>. I got up early. I went to coffee alone. I didn\u2019t have an appetite. I didn\u2019t need to tell her to breathe. I wasn\u2019t her fuel. I wasn\u2019t my own fuel. The days were certain, they lacked meaning. But I worked with intensity, and that\u2019s all I could do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I wrote like a lunatic in these past 20 days. I let her read some of my writing<\/a>. I was intrigued to what know she had to say about it. I loved guessing what her favourite line was\u2014 it was extremely difficult. I wrote in nostalgia. There\u2019s love because I will pour my heart into her pen so that every inked word she writes smells of me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because it was painful. It stung<\/a>. Because she was a coward again. Because I understood. Because she didn\u2019t. She was difficult, I was suffering and I loved her more, every passing second.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I\u2019m impatient to have her on the sofa<\/a>. I want one of my hands under her neck, the other one (almost) choking her to death. I want her to laugh again, while I rub my feet inside the blanket. I camped on this sofa during all these days. I hate the extra space though, while I sleep. I wish she comes soon so that I have nowhere to turn but towards her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I want to stop on the streets again, at random times. I want to let go of her hand so that she goes towards the puppies. It\u2019s been long since her puppy<\/a> got treats. He\u2019s waiting for that extra space to snuggle in. He\u2019s waiting for her to shove him inside her body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I climb up and down the daunting stairs<\/a> every day and remember where exactly I\u2019ve sat her down multiple times. I want to take the elevator with her again. I want to sing that song to her, after we\u2019re done being distracted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I get those old nightmares sometimes. I wake up in the middle of the night due to the frenzy fever dreams, to find she\u2019s not here. I want her in all of my fever dream<\/a>s. So that I can lean on her. So that we can visit all those cities. So that we can kiss in the middle of nowhere.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I rage again. I listen to old Nirvana<\/a> albums and lose myself. I told her before\u2014come, as you are. I kept that vinyl away because she\u2019s not here to listen to it with me. She\u2019s my Nirvana. The word and the fucking album.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I wish I could tell her about home<\/a>. I don\u2019t know what home is anymore. Willing to leave a piece of it back home, my heart yearns the escape again. That hole. And she\u2019s not here to fill it up even a little bit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because everything is empty without her. The people around me don\u2019t understand. Nobody really does. But I could be myself around her. The elevator, this sofa, this water bottle, my cigarette boxes, this balcony, these chairs, wishes and wants and all the dilemmas. Empty.<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I smoke more now. She\u2019s that sacred. I could write novels describing my love for her but I can describe her love and longing in one line\u2014I smoke. I smoke thinking about her. I go through a pack daily. Even two on difficult days. Food, water, and sleep\u2014Everything turned on me, but my cigarettes<\/a> stayed loyal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because it was never chance<\/a>. It was never probability. Nobody made it happen. There are no concepts to explain this. I willed her love. Fuck the concepts and the theories. I\u2019ll love her myself. I will love her with every bit of conscience I was born with. While I\u2019m at it, fuck probability, too. I fucking love her and no equation or label will suffice for that love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I still feel like I\u2019m the worst person in the world when it gets dark. I feel lonely<\/a>, even when I\u2019m surrounded by people. And I feel overwhelmed even when it\u2019s quiet around me. That clamour. She calms it down just by a touch of her fingertips on my neck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I look forward to owning animals<\/a> with her. I look forward to naming them all. I look forward to choose my favourites, and keeping it a secret so she doesn\u2019t compete. I look forward to watch that plot of a grand play in front of me. A play full of playful animals and a compassionate little girl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because she shuts me down with her hands. I\u2019ll buy her roses. I\u2019ll call her from work. I\u2019ll open doors for her all my life, and I\u2019ll show my love for her in my eyes. My rose\u2014I\u2019ll hold her heart tightly in my hands, as I let the thorns cut me deep, and we\u2019ll laugh at my bloodied hands, watching the petals<\/a> fall on the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I keep sitting in the Sun. And I keep mocking the moon everyday. \u201cI have a prettier one\u201d, I keep telling the moon, as it\u2019s shying away from that taunt behind a cloud. She\u2019s my moon. And I\u2019m her Sitaara<\/a>. With you, my moon, I\u2019ll set with you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I want to peel pomegranates<\/a> for her. I want her to be healthy, I want her to prosper like a lively flower she is. I want to be strict on her when she\u2019s not careful, and attentive. I want to prove the theory right, throughout my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I\u2019m egotistical. And so is she. Because I\u2019m suicidal. And so is she. Because I notice patterns<\/a>, and unknowingly, sometimes, so does she. I\u2019m hopeful because I\u2019ve found her. I\u2019m hopeful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I hate going for coffee alone. I hate having to talk to myself. I want those pointless, no-filter conversations again. I want to shoo away the pigeons and get her mind off of them. I want those 2-4-6 cigs again. I want coffee to taste the same again. And of course, that question in the night before we sleep again, \u201cCoffee<\/a>?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s love because I have to write a novel about her slender hands. A chapter about her (right) green veins. A page about her pear<\/a>ly nails. A paragraph about her graceful wrists. And a line about her hands again\u2014\u201cThe gods will look at me with respectful envy if I get to draw my last breath in her arms.\u201d I want to die by her side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s love. There\u2019s still love because I want her to click my silly 0.5x<\/a> pictures again. Those look ups when I\u2019m eating. Those videos when I\u2019m sitting in her lap, chugging M&Ms. I want to document my days with her, and my nights in her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n