I owe him years of silence.
Time passed and so did opportunities.
I got closure. Somewhere, he didn't.
I owe him that.
He isn't everything to me. No. That'll be someone else. But he's definitely some place where no one else will be.
He'll be in my life for every day of it. On a different day, for someone less etched into my system- I could have said it differently. With a different feeling. Probably that of excitement and uncertainty and a bit of a tingle.
But this is what happens when you're sure.
This is what happens when you know that one rain every monsoon, is with someone who laughs back and high-fives and most importantly, doesn't ask for an explanation.
Even if he deserves it.
I've managed to believe that somewhere, people we believe in break us. That poetry is in tragedy and joy and the words are just the madness of the mind escaping, finding a vent.
People WILL disappoint me. Even this one.
It's me who has to find a way to forgive them. To hold off for bigger joys than the disappointments they caused.
To compromise on this unnecessary ego I seem to have build up.
And even if this is a part of growing up.
Bring. It. On.
Bring on the snow, bring in the fire
Let the water above my head get higher
Cut me open, rub salt in my wounds
I'll cry and shiver and fall right through
Touch a nerve and dig in deeper
Make me lonelier than a dying leper
In the chaos of your inflicted pain
I'll scratch my way out again
In the forced silence I'll find a tune
A minute later, but I'll hum it soon
My headless melody best known as
Hope and all that ridiculous jazz.