[ SUBTLE ILLUSIONS ]


Here I go again.
I've written a hundred poems on you, I've ranted over a thousand desultory words in order to bridge the distance that separates us. I've mourned you with a million epithets, each of them bleeding with the unanswered emotions that overflow from the centre of my being, unable to reach the safe confines of home. H-O-M-E.  I'm so far away from home, and I've lost my keys to it anyway. I lost you.

It's raining. Lightning and thunder dance together in symphony with my lonely heartbeat, and it aches to sing with yours. It misses the joy, it misses the companionship, it misses the sound of yours beating as one with mine, as I miss you.
I'm drawing stupid emojis with the mist that has accumulated on the windowpane, while a section of my mind reflects on those days when your fingers were eclipsed with mine as we drew sceneries and stars and so much more with the same mist. Without you, I'm lost.

I wonder oftentimes about that single moment or two that decides everything about one's life. What if it went differently? I imagine myself playing a violin in a lush restaurant somewhere in the middle of nowhere. I imagine myself as a psychologist with trust issues. A disco jockey with an 80's playlist. An introverted professional matchmaker. A husband carrying his wife in his arms along a beach, looking at the sunset in the horizon, and looking at sunrise - in his wife's eyes. Everything comes back to you, see?

I like to think of alternate Universes and serial rebirths. I can be anyone in them. I'm free to do anything. But in every one of them, you're mine. It's sad that I currently exist in this one. You're still mine. In the blissful visions of my past, in the subtle illusions of my present, in the faint dreams of my future: you're mine. And I'm yours - deal with it.

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