even if you want to forget

Day 23– Rip

I was aiming to write something positive and encouraging but I ended up with something close(?)

i.

I the crumbling

memories, the smiles that

stretched into a smirk of

unkept promises and aches

of a cramping infinity. The

clandestine romances filled

with clementine forehead

kisses and fleeting hugs that

promised rainbows and rain

drops all at once, and hazardous

failures that was scented of

burnt hope and late night

cuddles.

I know it might be hard right now for even the athirst for wrinkled sheets that once gloriously claimed euphoria, now sings tales and fables that haunted your sleep, making it feel like the rope of expectations that was always tightly hooked around your fragile neck.

I know you might think it is too hard to breathe and too careless to sleep. The tattered mind that spills quaint whispers never helps and the aphrodisiac desire to rip apart every obstacle life threw at you is insane.

But, I want you to at those charmingly exhilarating times, the times when you feel like nothing is possible snapping your surreal thread of hope and everything is a lie that is just waiting to consume your soul, close your eyes and just give yourself a minute to rest, to feel the voices that you take as mirages and to listen to the erratic heartbeat of the void that is beating inside you.

Roam your calloused fingers in your hair, not in a ripping motion but in a way that your mother used to do when you laid in the security of her butterfly arms.

that you are a human that needs care that consists of a sunlit hug when needed and a handkerchief to wipe your tears when they can't stop flowing. You are a human that needs affection for late night video calls and love for every paper cut and every sprinkle-excitement topped with cherry surprises and moonlit road trips.

ii.

The sunflower pressed wounds

that contain a cosmos of your

past always acting like a cloak

over your future, the roses

that smiled a smile even

when their thorny tenants

buried their claws in them

for more nutrients. I

you were a book whose

pages had been damaged

by multiple foldings, who

was closed and never wanted

to be read again, yet had the

best cover page I had ever seen.

I know that I might be just seeing the tip of an adamantine iceberg and your petrous problems that are black coffee that you hate, not the regular two sugar cubes hazelnut one, might run deeper than you led me on.

But just, when your pen that keeps you chained to your computer desk gets too toilsome to be lifted up, or the incoherent ink that you always loved using starts staining your hands in pools of distorted hate and distilled helplessness, to call for help and not get asphyxiated alone.

to close your herculean eyes that look like little constellations of stringent desires and chalked up dares; just repeat the same words I had taught you all those years ago, the words that would make you realize you are worthy because you are you.

that obdurate clouds that resembled the auburn locks and a frown deeper than the sword of words you possess to protect yourself, do not cover the ivory sun, that will open your blind eyes and unveil all your bandaids and make them see the cerulean sea and azure sky.

The ennui moon is not always hidden by the whimsy sun's glow, like you can't stay hidden from the retrospection you will face eventually. Vega and Altair do get to meet each other, even if it is just for a while. Your melancholic physical wounds that will heal and become glorious medals of battles won.

I'll be there to heal the emotional ones for you, the ones that rip away your soul a little more every ing day. But, even if I am not, you are yours and belong to no one else.

#prosaicwhisperer