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Monday, February 27, 2012

Twenty eighth, part I.

Sentence me to death for all my crimes.

I woke up from one of my mini-naps drenched in your scent, in our scent. The fruity fragrance and the strong cologne you'd wear. I try and hold on to it but can't, because it was never there. I imagined it to make myself feel better, feel comforted. I am delusional and I like to create this semi-parallel universe of my own, in which there is just you and me and nobody else. Is it weird that I feel we could complete each other's lives even if we were the only people we had? I commit a sin everyday, a sin of wishing ill of others. I wish ill of the people who get to be with you, who get to see you, touch you, hug you, see you smile. I am a very selfish creature. I wish for this image that I paint of us, to become real some day. I want to see if we make it to forever and after. If not, I want to know who it is who does make it with you. Because as I said, I am not very kind or generous. Least of all when it comes to you. I don't mean to own you- no that was never my intention. I don't want to be the only one. But I want to be the one. Disregarding the time and the distance and the years that pass us by, I want you to look back and think of me as you thought of me that morning. I want to see you extract yourself from your life, for a lifetime of us someday. A day when you pour the drinks, and I dance to the slow hum of blues and we're comfortable in our own haven. unconcerned and oblivious to the surroundings. I want us to scoff at our friends because none of them have felt this way and never will so they can't possibly know what it's like. But that's all way later.

For now, I want to just sleep and not wake up. Because in that sleep, I will forever dream of us. I want to leave you with the guilt of having lost me while I continue on in my made-up world of you and me and us. I am broken and you can fix me. But you chose not to. So I want to break you instead. Slowly, till all you see is me and all you ever want to see is us. I am a criminal. Yes. I am your criminal.


Happy twenty eighth baby. I can wish you by my time now. Because, anyway, you'll never read it and you'll never know. 

2 comments:

  1. This was freakkiiiing awesome!!!Very very well written...I could feel the pain....Although it was understated...Kudos!!!

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