Monday, August 10, 2009

Because I know no other way..

"You're.. leaving?"

This time you're the one who says these words, the breath of that joint you smoked last night on my face. I want to reach up and stroke your hair, your long, wild hair that you love so much. You liked how I didn't try to kiss you even after all that time. You liked how I held you close and tried to comfort you, tried to take away the pain that makes you who you are. You liked how we sat in silence and I stroked your hair and we heard each other's heartbeat. And after all this time, that is all you want again. The simplicity of it is my undoing, the unapologising shamelessness. I like how you're so broken.
Guys shouldn't have long hair.
Don't try to change me.
Why would I want to change you?
You don't know how lovely you are..

I want to but I don't.

"What difference does a few thousand miles make? We're separated by infinity."
Have you had anything?
I believe in smoking on an empty stomach.
Kuch kha loh na.
I've missed you.
Your urgencies, your intensities, your extreme freedom.

It's strange. Sometimes your absences make me love you more than your presences.
I wrote you something last night but it didn't make any sense so I want to say 'Thank you' instead.
Since when did you care about making sense?
Leave all of this behind. Travel the world with me, become obscure with me. I will sell my father's land. We will never have to look back. Forget this all, forget all these people. Be mine.
I've found comfort in the calamity you caused.
I'm an architect. I'll build you a bridge.
Can I own the bridge?
Look at you... aren't you all about owning?

Yes.
What?
That's my answer.
What was the question?
You grin. My heart tweaks like we never left. Aren't you a devil in the morning? We pick off the same pieces and everything comes rushing back, the silver fountain we sat by on the clear sunny afternoon, the silver water on our feet a silver thread running down your neck
When are your parents coming to visit you?
They were supposed to be here last week.
And?
Apparently it's not safe enough. It never will be.
Do you miss them?
No.
Your skin against my feet as you took my shoes, walk with me barefoot on the tarmac in Lahore's rain again in the brazen streets of Defence to Hot Fuzon to have Death by Chocolate to have the man behind the counter look at us the way he did that one time his eyes wide with alarm how you don't let me protect you but shield me from this world
Let me help you design that kiosk once more. Paint me again, a monster, a goddess. Lie with me again on the roof of your car and count the stars with me. Lie with me in silence and let me stroke your hair.

New York City, I tell you.
People go to NYC so they can make out.
What?? You want to go to New York so you can make out?
Yeah, if that's what you want.
You crass, crass man.
So where are you going to be?
Near Times Square.
We can't do it in Times Square. People will think we're animals.
I push you away. You laugh. I relent.

Your eyes never leave me. I have to go.
It was nice running into you.
It was nice being your bridge.
It was nice owning you.
You smile. We leave it at that. We always leave wanting more.

But I push you away.
I will always push you away.

3 comments:

  1. Aporia. You broke my heart, mended it again. This post reminded me of more than I can tell. I loved it, love you for writing it. More beautiful in its subtle tragedy than I can say. A love story built of memories. One of the few writings that socks me in the gut, can bring me to tears.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You are very good at writing ! Really ! :)
    You should post more often.

    ReplyDelete
  3. This was beautiful Aporia! I cannot stop reading your blog! =)

    I'm following you, lady!

    ReplyDelete