When in love, you always try to trace back everything to that certain someone,
that dialogue from a movie feels so real and the proposal, your mind runs at least a thousand test runs to think about what you will say when that someone will propose you, how you would react, you want them to do it like your favorite character did in a movie.
At your favorite place, that small coffee house across the street, nearby your home, where you guys first met.
When in love, you start looking at your face in mirror more often, that glow on your face gives away your secrets to strangers, they can witness your heart beating faster than ever, your eyes, they speak louder than a thousand words from a love letter ever can, you look out for things unknowingly that you never cared about before, you want to be the best version of your self in each way possible.
When in love, you become vulnerable too, you give yourself away in a most selfless way possible, you heart, it doesn't want to hold back, all the feelings rush into your mind and all you could think is the moments you spent with that someone.
You know it might never happen, that someone may not feel the same way about you, but that doesn't change the fact that you have fallen in love.
When in love, you suddenly start enjoying weather, that breeze blowing from your balcony is still the same, but now it has some different essence, or perhaps it always had that but you noticed it just now, clouds instantly change your mood and you can never get enough of stars now.
You notice that variations in shape of moon everyday while trying to figure out what the other person would be doing at that time.
When in love, you may not share 'I love yous' more often, but those nods when your eyes meet make up for it perfectly.
I'm addicted to a different kind of sadness, the one where I'll show you symptoms of a happy man or a boy, like any face that you could think of while imagining the crowd at the metro station or at the airport,
A man Who has a wide smile spread across his lips because he is going to see his fiance after a whole year or
A boy who is dancing at the metro station because he is so excited to ride in a metro for the very first time.
But at the same I'll remind you of an old man in his late 60's, living alone in his big old house, his son and daughter are long gone from his life, busy in making their own little paradise, at first they used to visit him every now and then with his grandchildren, but as everything and everyone changes with time, they also changed.
His wife left him a little too early, just after a couple of years of marriage, that was the first time he came across sadness, the kind where he was smiling when his kids said their first words, but at the same time tears were rolling down from his eyes as there was no one else to share that moments with.
I'll remind you of that five years old kid who couldn't speak or write like other kids from his class and everyone else made fun of him because he stammered a little while giving his speech, he doesn't know why his heart aches after hearing all those comments, he wants to slap them and shout on them, but instead he sits in a corner, all alone, thinking why God made him like this.
Your sixteen years old girlfriend broke up with you today so you are sad and you think that your life is nothing but a tragedy and it won't ever be same without her so you try to take your own life, but can you think of a guy whose wife was killed in the bomb blast that happened at the shopping mall? She wanted him to come with her, but he was too tired to wake up from his bed so she went alone after making sure that her one year old twins are asleep, can you think of his desperation to alter the past, to remove just one day from it?
You see, I am all of that, that five years old kid or a boy at the metro station or a guy whose wife was killed or an old man living alone with all these memories, all of them is me.
"I like to watch these blue skies running away from me you know, but at the same time they remind me of people who ran away from me, never to look back again and it makes me really sad." Revathi uttered while staring outside of window.
"They are clouds you dumbo." Shantanu laughed from behind.
"Ya ya okay, clouds... Whatever!" Revathi felt irritated.
"You know, you can look it in a different way. Like how everyday different clouds come under your sky from far away, just for you." Shantanu presented his idea calmly.
"Yesss, I suppose. I never thought that way. Thank you Mr smarty pants for that." She smiled while saying this.
"Ayee, you brightest witch of your age. You sure know what irritate me the most." He threw cusion at her.
"Same back at you Miss chanandler bong." She threw the same cusion back.
"Well, at least I am the funny one here." He stood up and sat beside her.
"Now now, why are you still sad?" He asked her when she put her head on his lap.
"No. Nothing as such. It's just a thought, but why clouds and people have to leave you, especially just when you start to feel comfortable around them? Why can't I just own my people and if possible clouds too?" She took his hand in between her both hands while saying this.
"Well, first thing first, that's not possible okay. And besides that there are others like you, waiting for their share of clouds so it's not wise to keep all for us, is it? And people, they are rather more complicated you know. You can't make choices for others, everybody has their own feelings. So rather than trying to make them stay forever you can just love them while they are here, with you." He knew how to convince her.
"Yes, I know that too. But what about the void they leave behind? All that sadness comes to you in the middle of night, those memories, they moist your eyes and songs hit you like never before." She stared into his eyes.
"The more people that you let into your life, the more that can just walk right out." Feel this?
"Yesssss. So you are saying I should shut that door and don't let anyone come in?" She got up and again started watching clouds out of window.
"Can you really do that?"
"No. I've tried, but as you know that was a big failure."
"There you have your answer. That's the thing about us humans and that is the price we have to pay for all the happiness that we steal from our lives. It's like everything comes with its pros and cons. And when pros like me are so much tempting that you forget the cons comes with it." He hugged her from behind.
"Haha. Damn you, you really are the funny one here." She laughed and kissed his forehead.
Once there was a life around you, within you, you could feel it in your bones, that thrill to see what future holds for you, ready to break every rule out there like a rebel, trying to be like those characters from a movie, always smiling, singing songs with your friends, dancing with strangers you meet on a road. There was nothing to fear about, nothing that you afraid to do, there was someone, walking side by side with you, two different footprints leading to the same path. Life was simple and yet you made the most out of it.
Days turned into months and months into years, they say age is just a number but now you can see by yourself that it's not. Things have changed now, people have changed around you. There is no thrill left in you to see another day, another sunrise, you feel like you are just a burden on your kids, medicines are the constant items in your menu, walks have become lonely, those other footprints are no longer there to give you a company, she gave up long before you could tell her enough times that how much grateful you are, for she made this journey so beautiful and a little easy to travel, to tell her one last time how much you love her when she wears gajra for you.
You know it's not possible now, but still you wish for just one day, no words, no signs, nothing to say, just you and her, sitting there, witnessing one of the most pleasant endings, one last sunset.
Yes, this is happening, you read it right Rancho, it's not for you but for Pia. So now please hand it over to her. Done? Okay, so how are you doing Pia? I hope you are doing good. This letter? yes, I wrote it especially for you, to let you know how much I adored you then. Yes, I know, it's a bit late but tumne vo to suna hi hoga, 'Better late than never.'
Of course, I love those 3 idiots, that was one of the best trios that I have ever seen in my life, except perhaps me, my bed and sleep, just kidding. *laughs* But then you came in out of nowhere, wearing that pink saree, with your nerdy glasses and that 18th-century watch. That's where it was all started, wasn't it? That watch became a cupid and brought our Rancho to you. But first, like any other Indian girl you ignored that free-ki-advise and went to your dad and put our idiots into a big trouble.
That day, I don't believe it was just a coincidence that you saw Rancho and millimeter and you ran to him just so that you can shout on him. And when Rancho gave his another demo you finally gave in and realized that Suhash was never meant for you. Just like Rancho, I loved the way you said 'Gadhe' to him on his face, that was so gutsy of you. I know it wasn't just your Hippocratic oath that drawn you to help him but it's in your nature to help others.
There, In that hospital you witnessed for the first time that our beloved Rancho is softy after all and that his friends are very important to him. And when he instantly recognized that it was your mother's watch and asked you whether you were missing her on your sister's wedding, I could see that you guys had a moment there. And I was right, you did fall in love with him because "aaj mausam ek dum saaf hai par agar aapko pyaar hua hai to aap par halki halki baarish hogi."
When Rancho confessed his love for you that night in your room you were so happy. I know that idiot took four years to say that, but vo 22 minutes tumhari Zindagi ke bhi sabse haseen 22 minutes the, haina? And just like him, you went to his hostel, though it was for the sake of Raju. Sach batana ki uss raat tumne 2 lagayi thi ya 4? Has anyone ever told you that you are damn cute when you are drunk?
That night, you couldn't keep it inside, so you stormed out all the things you were hiding from your dad for so long. I can understand how hard it must have been for you to say all those things to your dad, to tell him that he was the reason for his son's death, to hand him over that suicide note that your brother wrote. But trust me, you did the right thing and you are a really good daughter because it's our duty to correct our parents whenever they are wrong.
One thing I want ask here is that, I know that idiot Rancho left you without saying anything and it was your right to move on, or at least pretend that you have moved on, but still Suhash?... I mean really?...Why Pia Why? But thanks to our Raju and Farhan you were saved at the last moment. And I must say again, it was really gutsy of you to run away from that wedding, in front of everyone, in front of your dad. But again, you did the right thing.
And last but not least, you are a damn good sister Pia, damn good. It was really frustrating and there was no way anybody else would have thought what you thought. You didn't lose your nerves and did everything that you could have done in that situation. Of course Rancho took care of things, but it was because of you that our 'Champ' survived.
Finally, finally you kissed him, that idiot, to prove him "naak bich me nahi aati" and what a kiss it was. You guys were made for each other and totally deserved that happy ending. By the way, "Shadi ke baad surname change ki ya nahi?"
In the end, being a gujarati I just want you to know that "hamare khane ki item ka sirf naam hi khatarnak hota hai baki 'Dhokla' to tum bhi nahi bhula paayi thi." *laughs*
So how do I start this? This letter that I urged to write after seeing you behind that silver screen, this letter that is also a way of me thanking you for teaching me a small but very important lesson of life. You know, when I saw you for the first time, I could only see a good wife, a caring daughter-in-law and a happy daughter in you and I assumed that this is what you truly are, this is what makes you happy. I could see that you had a passion for dancing but then like any other member of this Indian society I thought it was just your past, that it was something that you were just fond of, that your priority is changed now and your only source of happiness is your family now. And somewhere you made yourself believe it too.
But that night, that night changed everything, or should I say, that night brought the truth in front of you. That slap wasn't just a slap, was it? It was a reminder for you, a reminder to see all those unfair things that you have been ignoring for so long, things that you should have opposed, or maybe you should have asked answers for. I know that it wasn't your fault because that's what women had been doing before you raised your voice, that's what your grandma taught to your mom and your mom taught to you, to let go. "Jane do ye to hota rehta hai, thoda bardasht karna sikhna chahiye aurton ko." You couldn't understand how no one told him that it was his fault, how everyone just assumed ke ye to chalta hai, ye to normal hai, har pati patni ke bich itna to hota hi hai.
The way you said, "Just a slap, par nahi maar sakta" I could feel chill in my bones, like something awakened within me that was buried since forever. I wanted to scream so loud with you, "yes, it was wrong, he had no right to do it, not even one slap". People around you tried to convince you not to break your marriage because of just one slap. When Netra said "Hamein hi jod kar rakhna padta hai." and you replied, "Jod ke rakhni padi koi cheez toh matlab tooti huyi hai na? aur kab tak, kab tak jod kar rakhoge? kabhi na kabhi to thak jaoge na?" These lines shook me, completely.
I understand what you were trying to say when you told him that you don't love him anymore. You just wanted two things from your life, respect, and happiness. But when he slapped you that night, you realized one thing, that there was no respect for you in his eyes, that he just loved his wife, not you and thought he could do anything with his wife because he loved her and he had a right to slap you, that it was just a mistake, nothing more.
When you doubted yourself for a second, your father asked you whether you are doing all this just on a whim, or is it because you are listening to your inner voice, and then you said that it's your inner voice screaming for you that it is right whatever you are doing. So he told you, "Kai baar sahi karne ka result happy nahi hota." And I could clearly see on your face that you weren't happy too, that you also didn't want to leave what you had, your home, your mother-in-law, but you also couldn't let it go that feeling, that feeling of not being respected.
Dear Amrita, as you said, that petition was just for a slap, a slap that wasn't his right. But Amrita I want you to know that that petition became much more for others, for women it became a symbol of strength, something which inspired them to stand up against all the unfair things that they were ignoring, they realized that there is no need to suppress their feelings, their hobbies. For men, it came as a reminder, a reminder that it is written nowhere that he can raise a hand on his wife or a woman in general.
Amu, now I know that blue was never your favorite color but it was always yellow, and you dreamed of becoming many things in your childhood but housewife was never one of them. You tried your best to become the world's best wife, but not at the cost of your self-respect.
// Thappad is a must watch movie. Go and watch it in case if you haven't already. //
Closed eyes: My fingers sing a song on your arms, Tracing the veins, back and forth, Meaning to recognise the stains You recognise by; It's a prayer, if you hear Closely enough. Placing your arm on my chest, I let your fingertips touch my chin Barely, enough Closed eyes My fingers tell a story on your arms, Of the lies I told, Out of the fear of falling in love with you. My nails, broken and bitten Follow the outline of your thumb, And I lift it gently, Enough To ask for permission To hold my face and touch my lips. It's a prayer, can you hear? A kiss. Barely enough; Your hand reaches the back of my ear Tugging a lock of hair And playing with my pierced earlobe. You kiss that speck on my neck, And dial the minutes past us. You kiss that speck on my neck, And playing with my pierced earlobe, Tugging a lock of hair, your hand Reaches the back of my ear. A kiss, barely enough; Its a prayer, can you hear? To hold my face and touch my lips, To ask for permission Enough.
A question, Making excuses For me, From second hand lovers, To second thoughts, I ask you; If I am a synonym To you - No longer. Lips, chapped, cracked Tired, pink, speaking Without words. Could you look at me, If I was still yours, If you could hold me, Would you look at me? Or would you close your eyes, Meaning to recognise the stains, I recognise by? If names were how we knew each other, Know, They named a hurricane after someone, And it was a disaster. And someone is no longer someone else. Someone is no longer. Your eyes, wider than mine, Fail to respond, questions that make excuses For us. Backs turned, aching my heart, Looking away from you My synonym, Reminds me of second thoughts By second hand lovers. Where do they go when they are tired? They turn around. I turn around. Your eyes, wider than mine, Wet, welled, apologising, And I tether myself to you again. My hands around your face, pushing back your locks, With fingers running through, and backwards, behind ears Dialing the minutes to a halt. Enough. Look; It's where the sun stops setting midway, And where our breaths are all I can hear, Its where time forgets to pass, It's where lovers go when they're tired.
Hands, again On your eyes, Asking you to let me in. If having you close would mean Having to share my skin Then I would. At least then, I wouldn't have to Twist my fingers to feel you, Touch you, Kiss you, Biting my lips, I'd taste you, Holding my hands, Begging, I'd feel safe. Close your eyes, Hold me close, Sit, don't stand Smile, don't care Do you feel my breath Above your lips, do you hear The gulps, and my tongue Moving back and forth, Finding a place to be - Tasteful, Your lips, the most perfect attribute That utters my name, And makes it yours, so easily, Your lips, Meet mine And your smile, ceases to exist. A fault? A crime? A distasteful placement of tongue? Your scent, lingers still Your hand, moves mine away, Closed eyes, Your fingers sing a song on my arms, And they say, "you're mine", And you hold me, Not looking at me, You close your eyes, Meaning to recognise the stains, I recognise by. It's the way you say my name, Making it yours, That makes me your name, Just the way I call you mine; So my hand runs past your ear, And my nails tend to dial the minutes slow, Digging those claws deep in your skin Deep enough to allow me To grasp your hair And kiss you deeper, Softer Yet harsher Loving you, Over And over Again. Time passes by, Swaying calmer than usual And my skin melts into your palms Till the crevices of your skin And the edges of your lips Are cemented with the essence of mine.
Hope Falters Struggling to perceive our existence. Water, beneath my feet, Puddles under my eyes, A feat. Your absence speaks words That I fail to comprehend A comb carries my hair, A towel holds the dirt off my body, A perfume bottle, the one I never use A ring, another, one more Enough. I fail to recognise your stains Over my presence; Its senile, the thought of living without you Insanity, dangerous Like walking on shards of glass That was labelled unbreakable. Making my therapist cry I walk out, proud, Looking for a chair to sit upon And tie an imaginary chain around my ankle Pretending to be busy; avoiding eye contact With strangers I hate. Walking home, I realise how the clock behind my ear, It ticks, The leaves start falling backwards And my hair trickles down, Earrings dangle forth and back Lips blush, eyes flutter down and up Time passes by, negatively, And I find myself, covered in blood and bandages My pelvis, hurt, swollen I lay, with cut wrist, broken and wilted I couldn't bloom, And there was a man, who told me, The day I was made to realise, how I can no longer be a mother "You matter to me." And hope Faltered Struggling to perceive our existence.
I believe I am a better rider than you, Just based on the fact, That I spent a year on bicycles before puberty struck me And that you didn't. A weak frame sits in front of you Won't you hold her, By her waist? My hair, brutal on your face, That you tied with your handkerchief Were moved aside, And your arms, chased mine, Till they reached my hands, grasping the handles Overlapping, as our fate Warming my skin And steering away under canopies Allowing the sun to brighten my eyes. I could feel your heart, beating on my back, And your fingers removing my earring, Looking for places to kiss And you kiss, Dialing the minutes forward. The sky seems to float, the birds left behind The road seems to end now, And the trees farther, now moving ahead Our teeth now colder from the smiles Yours, stingy, bearded Mine, uneven, with torn lips And a scalp that peels off. Close your eyes, Hold me, Close Hold me close "Where are we headed to?" "Home" "Where?" I scream "Right here."
Standing in the dining hall It's dark outside, 23:32 But the sky is chrome, Your arms around my waist And mine, around your neck Closed eyes and mirroring noses Foreheads reflecting, I smile a smile you aren't aware of, Swaying, dancing, falling in love Making love, innocently, Like bottles filled just up to the brim Waiting for an overflow. I wonder, what colour my hair would be, When I'm old, and dead. I wonder if you'll stay awake, all night, If you'll remember what my skin felt like, When you're old; and with someone else. Growing up, I will lie, cheat and break your heart, Would you still mean it, when you say now, "I can never hate you. I just can't." I wonder what your smile would look like, When you're old and with somebody new, With rings you might have exchanged, Would you let me know? I wonder if you'll believe, that this kind of love Was for the young selves, I wonder if you'll be happy that you fell in love In your twenties, When you did, with someone you might not remember; I wonder if you'll remember me. I wonder if you'll still know, what my favourite colour is, And what I used to be allergic to, When I visit for some relative's funeral, And eat some cake with tea. Would you still tell me that I'm yours? Would you still be mine? Kiss me, with your coffee lips, Before you promise this to somebody else, Fall for me, please? Sing some song, that is discreet enough To propose, like you once did before, Would you remember our song then? When we grow up, and my scars are no longer yours And I no longer can write you poems nor stories Because my father passed away And there's no one to terrorise my life; What will happen when those clocks, behind our ears Stop working, or perhaps forget each other's touch And when my skin, sheds itself and my self, accepts a new one, Letting go of your stains; from every kiss that you left behind; I just hope I don't die, after you - And you put your hand, over my heart, Another behind my ear, Looking into my eyes, you stop the minutes The time, ceasing to exist Just us, in a moment, That we claim as ours, 23:32.
Mama sits under the sun singing to herself, humming to the wind, telling me that you could make stories out of shadows if your mind's not too worn out and your heart's really in it, and I promise myself that someday I'll spin tales out of fire and magic out of thin air.
Mama has callused skin as she tells me the earth is kind to those who are willing to get their hands dirty, who don't shy away from a spot of blood, the ones who put in the hard yards come rain or shine, and the rain falls steady like silver diamonds as we sip coffee on wasted days.
Mama is long gone up there somewhere in the skies slow dancing with the stars until she became one herself and I pick up my pen and claw at the wind, chasing words in a room half lit trying to remember that anything could be poetry if my heart's really in it.
(Haven't yet reread, ignore the mistakes if any for now)
"You know, I don't really mind the sugar." "Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot, again, didn't I?" "Oh did you?"
And he chuckled, took a sip and then sat down on the floor. His was a lukewarm cup, held late on account of ill tampered arrivals and traffic. It was a replacement for coffee, just a miracle of how the milk in my fridge ran out every time he was to stop by.
"It's raining outside, else I'd have been on time." "I know." His breath smelled of cardamom. There was no mustache to be wiped off, just dried lips, not taken care of, licking themselves over and over again, worsening the flaking skin. His habit of biting his lower lip just after his first sip of tea, seemed to bother me at first, yet then I got used to the fact that he was already trying to compromise his departure every time he decided to share a cup of chai. A salted cracker and a small bowl of peanuts was all that I could provide his diabetic self.
"This is good." He sipped peacefully. There was a faint scream of crickets in the wet grass. A sense of closure, a calm; his eyes closed and his lips smiled. His checkered grey shirt had rolled down sleeves with open buttons on the cuffs and the absence of two from the collar. His wet hair began to curl upon themselves, those lines from his forehead disappeared. His wet socks couldn't hide his curling toes and his dirty jeans had pockets filled with a supposed pack of cigarettes he had been wanting to share with me and probably some mouth freshners for the moments he tried his lady luck. Those wet footsteps led from my room's door to the window pane. The cardamom somehow flavoured the overdue petrichor in a way that it reminded him of his village. "This is good."
I closed my eyes. I sighed and sipped my chai.
There was a rush. A rush of voices clubbing together; laughing and shouting, with names overlapping and smiles you could hear. There were peers on my right who wished to drink beer at 14, and satisfied their puberty with fruit beers. Some friends on my left were busy gossiping about a classmate who made out with a senior in the 'Mysterious Caves of Magic'. It sure seemed magical, the idea of convincing the father of my best friend to allow her to get out for a day on a school picnic, where I took the big responsibility of not allowing her to talk to strangers.
We were standing in front of a menu board. Her stomach was rumbling. There was sweat under our armpits from the compulsion of wearing a coat; whereas there were mobile phones in the armpits of others, from the excuse of being compelled.
"One plate is for 50. Can you believe that? I'm not carrying that much." "It's okay. We can handle this no?"
With scared school boots we headed on to the cheapest place in the cafeteria and for the first time ever, tried to use the art of flirtation for negotiation. There were huge shoulders and a big mustache behind the counter. If you were tall enough, you could see his stomach being on the risk of catching fire from the proximity to the stove.
A foot in front of the other, we smiled; hers was a chubby one, with her pretty north eastern eyes glistening in the sun, while mine was intentional, with eyes staring straight into the heart of the vendor.
"Can you do it for ten? Ten each?" "No." "What if we say "please"?" A sigh. A sigh and a huge skillet was lit. There was no reduction in the amount of noodles, nor in the chillies, nor in the seasonings. There was no reduction in the love he put into our food. And that's when we sat down behind fake plants, on a special table, with huge plates and food that was too much for our bellies. Excited, as if it was an adventure, we laughed, and paid as much as we had promised.
"A complimentary tea." There was this tea, one I've never had before, in a small paper cup, orange in sheen. It smelled of cloves and pepper, with a hint of cinnamon. The cups felt hot to our palms, so we carried our bags and walked in the park, counting the number of times some boys hit an inappropriate dance move. We sat on a porous metallic bench, heavier on her side, and we tried our best not to move much, especially after she did and caused my share of tea to spill on my shoes. I pulled her cheeks and asked her not to repeat it again, but oh well, a kid out for the first time had forgotten to have fun in all this while.
We saw the sun set until our roll calls were heard. Just a moment. I smelled marigold. "Let's go." Just a moment.
I closed my eyes. I sighed and sipped my chai.
There was a clatter in the kitchen. Apparently he had let the cups slide off the counter.
"Are you sure you don't want me in there?" "No, I don't want you in here, K. I can handle this." "Doesn't seem like it."
He emerged with a tray good enough for holding six cups, with mittens on his hands and an apron that smelled of milk. There was a non stick pan on the top of the tray.
"Ta-daaa. Here's it." "What?" "What?" "You said you were making tea." "This is the tea." "In a pan" "Yeah" his eyes widened and his eyebrows arched, "with straws. I can use some appreciation here. Did you not just hear the cups fall behind my back while I was totally not trying to scoop out the leftover tea leaves floating around?"
He sat down, took his mittens off, threw away his apron in the laundry basked and began setting his hair off in the opposite direction of their growth. He sat down on the couch and held the pan up to my face.
"Drink it." "I am not mouthing a pan. For some tea. Are you sure I won't die from this?" "No." "What did you add?" "Just some cloves and cardamom," "Hmm" "And sugar and pepper." "Okay" "And I wanted to balance out the extra accidental spoon of sugar with some salt." "Some salt?" "Yes. And there's some leaves you put in a tea. The one's my mother grows." "Basil?" "Maybe?"
He handed me a straw and held one close to his mouth. I counted to three. We sipped and immediately spit back the hot tea through the same straws into the pan.
A moment of silence for his efforts.
"So?" "The basil really tasted a lot like mint. I don't know how you did that, but it really was exceptional. Stood out for me."
And then laughter.
"You really can't make this breakfast in bed for your mother's birthday. Please don't." "I won't. Got it. Learnt it. It's all done and settled." "Do you want me to make some for you right now?" "No. I'm not a tea person. Oh come on, your adorable face makes me want to say yes everytime."
He sat on the kitchen counter. I put on the saucepan and turned on the gas. There went two and a half cups of water, two teaspoons of tea, an inch of crushed ginger, two teaspoons of sugar, and milk according to the colour. He watched me do it all, and watched it all be done by me. He was watching me. Just me.
"So you really are beautiful. And the best of everything." "Wait for the tea."
I strained the tea, pressed the tealeaves and discarded them. There were two non matching cups that were filled to exact perfection. I offered one to him and he immediately burnt the tip of his tongue.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" "Well maybe because of this," And he kissed me while I stood there motionless with my eyes closed and a racing heart. I never kissed him back, never known how to kiss.
"What can I give that is all for you? My heart's no good 'cause it's split in two What can I give that is all for you? These arms are all I have But I'll hold you like I do love you But I'll hold you like I do love you"