Marble Moments.

In between whispering to the winds lines that are meant only for you, I think I spend most of my afternoons daydreaming on the kitchen floor. Imagining the fragile moments of you holding me so close that I can almost feel the fragrance of your unkempt hair seep into me. Imagining counting stars on your bare chest. I think most of the times I'm too tipsy during the afternoons, or too sleepy. Or, maybe I just get a high just thinking about you. And on cold winter mornings like these, my reveries keep me warm and I think about playing with your scent and kissing your brow while you're asleep.

I've tried shaking these thoughts away but they get to me, you know. You set me free, somehow. I see my unchained skies in your eyes. When you smile. When you take off your glasses from all that silly laughter we've had, you enchant me, your eyes - they leave me a little breathless. And to be with you, around you is like walking under the rainclouds. You are love. Love is you. I don't know what love is. I'm curious to know who you really are. You, like love, are nothing and everything. To me. You are silence, like love is silence. We walk together in this silence, sometimes. We know when to fill those voids with words and songs. We smile, and don't let us know. I think we're in love and yet, we do nothing about it. Sometimes we do almost everything about it. We don't know we're in love; we don't know we're silent. And, you don't even understand how at times I steal our metaphors to capture into poetry in vain.

You intrigue me. You and your words, and your ability to keep things inside and yet, smile. I wonder how you glow like a tiny firefly in complete darkness. No, you aren't really a firefly. Fireflies die everynight and fireflies come back as marbles; they bring back memories. Fireflies become tiny rounded colourful marbles that stare right into your face reminding you of trices that you couldn't hold in your palms. Nay! you are not a firefly or a marble. You're you. You're silence. The partial absence of words. Love. An ennui. Shards of daydreams cascading through the blinds like sunshine on lazy afternoons.

You're the road I take with you. You're the long long walks around the old storyteller town under the moonlight. You are the crevices in the hills where we find wild purple flowers and capture them on polaroid. You are the poem you don't understand. You're nothing and everything to me. You're love.