You were not my type. You didn’t fall under my bracket of volition. And you did not remotely match to any of my checklist points. We were yet another rendition of opposites attract, and you were a classic, clichéd risk. I am not trying to find a pattern here. And I do not intend on recollecting all the details of our past, but what I do remember, is that you made me laugh. And somehow, it meant the world. If I close my eyes, like even a blink, it all comes back to me in tiny speedy flashes of fire and snow together at once. I get confused, what to feel. The bliss of loving or the sorrow of parting. Ever since you have gone, I don’t know what I miss more: you or myself.
P.S.: Couldn’t find a title. Could be post Valentine’s effect.
You are the battle I have conspicuously lost but I revisit time and again, to trail my defeat. You are that dream I don’t want to be woken up from, and yet I regret every time, of having seen it. That candy bar in a retail shop I couldn’t get enough of at one time, but I walk past now because it aches my tooth. My favourite perfume bottle that I use ever so stingily from the fear that I would finish it up soon. That song I once stumbled upon the radio and loved hearing but couldn’t trace it later on. The tiny gossamer of fabric I don’t want to tear apart from the whole clothing. That large bite on my dish which I don’t just yet jump on, as I want to relish it at the end. You are no things simple. And yet you are all things easy. May be that’s what I miss, the easiness. You are something I don’t wish to recover from and someone who is doing me all wrong. You are a paradox I am living, day and night.