I still wish to write about you -
I still wish to write about you.
Again and again and yet again.
Now that you’re not next to me anymore,
the memories of you are my escape routes.
It makes me question myself
I know I never loved you, but something was brewing.
I indeed cared for you more than I imagined.
But were you just my escape? Or was there something in between us?
I still want to write about us.
Before my memories of you fade away
Before the lines between reality and romanticism merge into one another,
Before what I say is no longer about you, but just about how you made me feel.
I wish to capture you in between these lines,
These words that’ll hopefully keep you alive.
I want to remember you and smile.
Read these words years down the line and call you.
Tell me should I? Should I write about you? About us?
Or tell me am I romanticizing what we had?
Is it in my head? Did I just exaggerate everything the way I always do?
Is the misery of it more to me, than what it is to you?
Am I too, stuck in your head, now that I’m not next to you?
You told me not to go back to these poems after you leave.
I read them more than twice every day.
I glance at them in bed when the lights are out.
I remind myself of how warm it felt to be in your embrace.
How safe it felt to rest my head on your chest
and have you hold me.
How it made me feel pretty, the way you looked at me.
How I felt heard when you stared right at me
Even when I spoke everything and anything,
I miss you looking into my eyes–
and that sweet sweet smile. Oh, your sweet smile.
I’m at it again? Aint i?
I have a hundred things to deal with, and here I am–
Sitting on a rock, crimson fallen leaves by my feet.
I’m writing about how you made me feel..
Monsoon’s gone. But the grass is still wet.
I’m here writing about when life felt beautiful
Even when everything was out of my hands
Falling, crumbling, out of control.. Navigation lost!
It was indeed like 'driving a new Maserati down a dead-end street’
I’m not sure how I was approaching this.
Though, I don’t wish to call it my stupidity anymore.
I flew to you cause you seemed like a shelter.
And then I chose to let myself be lost in you–
And maybe, I dont care whether it is an escape or -
Whatever it may be. I look at you with respect,
With love and care in my eyes and I wish to remember you this way.
I wish to cherish what we had.
I still wish to write about you.
