chaiNboli

I am fading and he is not noticing. I will be a wisp of air and he won't notice.i know this. I know everything. I know that each time I proclaim my love, I am handing him a stone to throw at me. I know that this man, whom I am afraid to name as mine with confidence, is a crystal cyanide wrapped in sugar syrup. His ugly honesty disarms me, dismantles me ; a flood that washes a garden, thinking that it is helping the dry earth.  He is sensible enough not to catch a falling knife with his bare hands. Am the fool that runs along streets to make sure that the last wish of an autumn leaf came true. We are not the hands waiting to come together to form a prayer. That is we are two ancient civilizations: one who won and the other who died. So, being safe means being out of love. But,  love is a silent drowning and he is the mouth of a river. Every morning I am taking form of another square, contemplating boredom of a childhood no one wanted until it was lost. And like the singing of a...