"Two for the two of us..."
Its prettier at night, the hills, this city. Somehow, I lose count of the stars staring at us in the sky, perhaps intentionally, and instead I choose to imagine that the mountains of Shimla are falling asleep, ever so gently, wrapping themselves in a blanket that reflects all of those stars that seem to multiply everytime I look at them. If you've ever seen a mirror, you probably hated the sight, if you're anything like me, but oh love, ask me and I'd go quiet again. This quietness between the two of us isn't a stranger, I look at the mountains yawning at me, turn to my right and there you are, looking at me, as if you really meant it when you said that you have been in love with me since the day you saw me.
I can not recall of any second of my life before I met you, before I saw you, had known you, held you, kissed you. Who are you? Home. Where are you? Right outside my door. Linger a little longer, will you? Roam around, take a walk, smile at strangers, pluck wallflowers, but come back here. Be here, knock at the door, wait for me and I promise I'd open it everytime. Just don't stop knocking. Who am I? Jasmine. Where am I? Home. Who are you? Home.
Where are we? Home.
Home isn't without either of us. So linger till we are, till we exist. Linger till you leave behind your scent. I'd follow, perhaps a few blocks behind you, I'd be riding a cycle, paddling slowly and closing my eyes for a brief moment, and I'd smell you. Your present absence will carry me forward, bring me towards you. There's a handkerchief in my pocket and it smells of you. A flower, a weed, some fondant, and an icecream stick. The thread around my neck claims that I'm yours, could you say it again? Please say it again. Who am I? Yours.
I've been sitting on benches that have been freshly painted, closing my eyes yet again, and wishing for you. There's a mouth moving next to me but I can't understand what it says, because my hands are empty right now, so are yours. Then my fingers, oh God, they have started to linger too. Crooked and cut, burnt and shaky, they start playing with your thread, as if I was praying, as if I knew how to pray and use my rosemary. I prayed for you today, I have loved you today. I hope your clock moved forward unlike mine. Two for the two of us, seconds passing like flowing water between toes, minutes like birds flying during a sunset and hours like afternoon naps. Seconds, minutes, hours for me haven't passed since the day we sat on that one dry bench, that one night where the tip of my cold nose didn't stop tickling your neck. My hands still want to smell of you, my heart still wants to beat faster, it begs me and it keeps begging all night.
And I love you, something I could've doubted weeks from today. But I love you, why? It fails to fall into words. Yet I love you in a way that is perhaps not something we can decipher. Life has a meaning, people die looking for a purpose, but then, I've never come across a page that had no reason to exist, be torn apart and then stepped upon. Newspapers that were meant to be read and yet are being used to soak in that excess oil or bubble wraps that were meant to protect fragile boxes but are being used as dopamine enhancers, somehow they have a reason to exist. My love for you, it doesn't. Sometimes, reasons to exist cease to exist themselves. There is no right, no truth, no wrong nor a lie. Sometimes, nights are simply dark and days are simply bright. You inhale, exhale. You smile, you cry. Sometimes, there doesn't have to be a why. What are we? Us. How are we? Happy. Where are we? Home.
And that's enough.
Sometimes, you can hold me, ever so gently, or ever so tightly, in a way that the blinking of your eyes tickles my neck, the breathing of your nose sweats my chin and the movement of your toes tangles within my black threads. I love you in a way that your head laying on my chest becomes a part of my heart, beating so fast. In a way that the closing of your eyes makes me fall asleep. In a way that the tears in your eyes because of the fear of losing me become mine. In a way that your hand over my stomach becomes mine. You become me. Who am I? You. Who am I without you? Nothing. Who are you? Mine. And that's enough.
Perhaps, it is this. Why do I love you? Because you are my reason to be. Who am I without you? Nothing.
And we sit. We sit and hold hands and we run out of words. Oh but then what? It's quiet. Unfortunately we forgot to write our scripts for each other. But then, it's the way you linger, the way I turn around and find your lips a few centimeters away from mine. Your eyes staring at me as if I was a dream and mine staring at you as if I was dreaming. And we stare, and you ask me "what is it?", I shake my head left to right, you shake yours, and then we smile. What are we doing? Falling in love. And that's enough.
Words cease to matter because of what is in proximity. You, next to me. Things are prettier at night, did I tell you? Stop your watch then, let's just stay here a little longer. How long? Forever. Pause, freeze the moment, I'd try to get up and leave to catch the last cab; hold my hand, pull me back. Take out my water bottle from my bag, leave it by the bench, call me again, bring me back. Give me your jacket, forget your keys in it, call me again, bring me back. Kiss my forehead, let me cry, cry with me, make me smile, smile with me, bring that back. Ask me if you can kiss me, let me say yes, let me kiss you back, ask again, bring it back. "What are we doing?" "Oh nothing, just falling in love." "Is that enough?" "That's enough."
"I can't lose you."
But how can you? Can't you see? That watch would still work if you decide to walk away from my door. And I would still ride my bicycle trying to find you, but there would be no scent of yours reminding me of the correct way. Where would I go? I don't know. Where do I want to go? Home. Who are you? Home. Mine. Everything.
How can a home lose its resident? Where my scars are seen as a story, where you kiss them, wishing you had kissed them sooner, not to make them go away but to make them hurt me less, why would I go elsewhere? Linger in the rain, I'll be there, in the storm, roam around in the streets, I'll be there. No one would wonder where I am, because I'll be with you. Be that feeling in my chest that is so beautiful that it aches. Be a poem that I can't seem to get off my head, yet can't quite write down, just because words won't be enough. Be the vowels in my name, be the sighs that I take. Be my favourite color, the beating of my heart, the songs I can sing. And even if years later I can't recall your face, be the only one I can afford to be in love with, barely, just a bit. Be mine. Who are you? Mine.
Is that enough? Probably.