He asks for the extra sugar. Does he want to retaliate the taste of chocolate? I can’t wrap a pebble and give to him. It is not to be domed to crush within the taste buds. They are sensitive, tend to burnt while mushing the other tongues. So, he does not smile after kiss.
once we took a corner with tables and chair. we were on table and cups on the plastic wooden chair. hence, taints are not apprehensive towards plastics. But the bills were high on the messed up plastics. he was waiting outside, shades and those puffs, while I thinking about the plastic if it could choke that smoke out. He says visions are blurred till the smoke shakes on the way we are heading to.
on the fifth day, i am enough with the crap of yours. I would rather have a crab on dine. Why won’t you order it for us? I am sure that it do not have any tentacles to clutch us right there beneath the silver moon. We never talked, flew along the glasses. our glasses complained the other glasses. so, we live in a wooden house.
Winter nights and swollen Christmas. he is nailing the blanket on a snow. I got a hammer to pin that nail down the roots. That was the first time he laughed along me. He asked me to play his favorite songs.
call it magic
call it true
I call it magic
when I’m with you
and I just got broken
broken into two
still I call it magic
Suddenly he paused it, looked at the hammer and bawled if it could break me into two and call it magic. I changed the playlist
oh angel sent from up above
you know you make my world light up
When I was down, when I was Hurt
you came to lift me up
Now here is an act:
He blows the stairs into the uncountable. He falls off and cripples to the Terrace, looks up. I certainly knew the angels in his eyes. perhaps Snow could make up to the white angel. I am out of his door, loosening the nails of blanket. I am not used to cold like he is.
A strand of threads on that corner. my arms are weak or I had loved that canvas all along my breath. somehow I need to get rid of it. Last time I bought the best cleaning agent. yet, its drilled on Bermuda of walls, cannot be sought on glass power. That corner where I had been is occupied on something I despise the most- a strand of thread drawn by crawls. Likewise, the stains on his grins.
I got a hammer, breaking the top-notch edge. I’ll water my bed and doze off on the floor. I can see the two pokes on ceiling, laughing hard, I could breathe underneath pillows. Not his stains again;
When he goes to bed, he crank volume high on coldplay songs. he hums within me. a lullaby for my sleep. Now that two holes have peek insomnia, where I have my issues on sunken glasses,where, I check a lock twice. I have been hating Coldplay all this time, being his gems, my appetite on his full.
He has the same old stiffed feelings. It does not easily break down. Once it’s fragile, it is divided into two without the trace of history. I have some shards of his memoirs. I have a great interest in recollecting them till they colors themselves.
Encountering every pinch of wind on the speed of 60 km/hr, I had my trust on his back. It’s so warm, guarding my face against the knock of stranger blows. We laid on the nails of grass. It didn’t poke us.
“Can you picture something now?” he pointed the clouds drifting away in slow motion. I closed my eyes, opened the drawer of imagination and tried to figure out what it exactly looked alike. Instead, I unlocked the recent fights we had. “You are still silent! Talk to me for the god sake”
“I…I I… Paul I” I tried to answer but the words got stuck and clutched me right there. I felt as if I was going to choke up the empty vibrant. He sighed lowly. “I married her without my consent. How many times do I have to tell you that I want you, right now, with me?
All I heard was “he wants me.” The remaining part faded away like it didn’t even exist. He has the tied ribbon on the up most priority. How can I meddle in his knots? I was staring at his tie dancing on its own. Perhaps his wife had tied him up. But he can do it on his own. Oh gosh! What am I even thinking about? I hadn’t answered yet.
“You could have told me earlier. Paul, I …”
“And if I did that, would you have loved me?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know I don’t know ….” I could taste the saltiness around my lips. “Take me to the work, you owe me that”
This time, he didn’t answer me and ignited the fumes off to take me back from what we dreamed off. His back turned ice as I tried very hard hiding my tears off. How can I love a person who shares his back with ‘wife without consent’?