The moment I held your hand, I knew that, that would fix everything inside me that I had since a very long time. That you would fix me just how we did when we were 5 years old playing with our favorite puzzles. I would listen to you like a baby and you would never mind listening to the stories.
This night, let’s face it and tell each other the stories that we wanted to hear since a long time. You are not just my best friend. I don’t like calling you that.
I believe that now when you hug me , there is a sense of completion inside my vein, that the blood finally flows well enough to let me breathe in this polluted air of love.
Who are we now? Are we the same best friends that would go places without thinking that we are ever going to fall in love.
You are my favorite poem yet i have never written about you. Honestly, my words don’t have the ability to deal with this certain kind of pain that my words can’t deal with.
I was always interested in storing treasures and here you are, one of them. I don’t know about you but my smile isn’t the same around you anymore. it has changed. It has the effect as that of a lover seeing his love or say a favorite rose. You are my flaws, you are what I thought you would be. Fitting perfectly into my bones. Here I lie as a drunkard regretting of all the past poems and muses, never to think of you as a lover. For i know that you are never going to have that break up story, that drunk incident that would make you realize that we are supposed to be lost behind this curtain, facing the sun rays at 5.
How are we going to kiss if our lips are stitched to not utter the truth that your scars are my strength. You know, I am weak. I have lovers. But you aren’t one. You have been the same, since the beginning and now look at me framing sentences trying to make a poem just to tell you that i have stopped writing but i can’t stop writing letters to you.