Lovingly, Never Yours

1.

The counterpart to rationality is utter foolishness. In love, we bask in foolishness.

It is difficult to counterbalance an abominable level of necessity for your company with insignificant chores. When you ask what I did today, I want to say I spent the hours trying to push aside my need for you. That you weren’t off my mind the whole day, not even for a minute. It’s embarrassing to admit one's own vulnerability, yet I also believe it takes immense strength and courage to face it—to kneel before it.

Still, even when I want to confess… certain things… words get stuck at the edge of my throat. Every time I come across flowers I cannot name, I think about collecting a few for you. As you insist, and as a matter of "fact", I am the most unique Poush. The rest of your "facts" also ring in my ears at the most unexpected hours.

I wish you were an eternal tale. But I have decided not to accost until you revert. And yet, however embarrassing, however tedious, however fleeting—you are the only person I can share my monologues with. The only person I can sing to without feeling self-conscious. And about how a familiar scent wafted through the window and snatched me back to our second rencounter on an April night.

Memory and grief are the only legitimate time machines.

The first apartment-style eatery I took you to has been reduced to ashes. So I took you to another—the one I had meant to take you ever since I had the first morsel of their bestseller. To share every good little thing I come across. With you. When I hope to relive our shared secrets, I rush to our rendezvous, only to find them morbidly empty. After 8 pm, when I see men in blue Ts walking toward me at 100 feet remove, I wish they were you. But you and I cannot exist in the same time-space; it's not possible. Fate is the greatest traitor of all time.

My mother is utterly lonely. I do not have the capability to help her. No longer do I have the strength to tell her to focus on self-love, as now, I understand her in ways I wish I didn’t. I wish I were oblivious to her grief. All these internet gurus, these know-it-alls trying to shove self-love down our throat—they are idiots. You cannot self-love your way out of the need for romance, for companionship.

One day when the governments will be less jerks, I will come to find you. And I will not regret it.

—

Here’s something you missed when you stumbled upon my confessionals:

...The number of days we have

will never be enough

You and time slip by like field mice

While I try to catch you

No day stretches long enough.

Foregone hopes grow on pomegranate trees

You see – my heart is a river

It is dying of thirst

Tonight, I want to float away

like dandelion seeds on a careless wind.

The world always falls from the sixth floor

Doves and sparrows lose gravity

To save your remnants,

I try to grab your wrist

with my missing hand...

Lovingly,

Never Yours.