The Amorous Champagne

 

"The world and time as I speak, hold many anonymous countenance. The spiralling emotions kept under the wrap of the abyss of my crooked smile or the time you wish to banish, both are a blend of coincidence. The years speak for themselves as you turn your back on them. Goodbye! The word uttered year after year in the basking sun or the dim moonlight." Lord Ashoenix said while having the sniff of relaxing cold breeze.

You've my alphabets with which i've strung your sentences together. We'll use them to define the people whom we'll meet next, and the cycle will continue. So what are we, if not the remnants of the people that we cross path with? But i know that you're tired and afraid of the broken trust resulting from fake promises. The people who come with a zeal at first to be with you forever and then eventually leave you after a few months or years at best, the mechanical check-ins of your once in a blue moon friend, the exhaustion of your soul case, the redundancy of the connections you left behind, to trust someone enough to surrender yourself completely to them, to take compliments without a thought at the back of your mind that "probably, she/he is exaggerating", or to allow yourself to be loved wildly by a stranger.

To you i'm just another jerk with shaky promises; to me you're a feeling of many moons. is it lethal for me to hope unilaterally? No, you don't need to contradict me this time. I know it and i neither have two minds about it nor am i assuming. I don't blame you, the world and the people residing in it have been cruel and unkind to you more than enough. You were abandoned so much every now and then, that you forgot how it feels to be loved unconditionally. How does it taste like? Is unconditional love even possible? I don't know. Probably time can show that to us. But time, for us, is like that perennial lake over which the leaves rest. The seasonal cycle changes every year and the water dries up, yet the haptic leaves can't hold from fading their pigment over it. Our story right now feels like that sand timer from which each sand particle is seeping grain by grain, as we let go of each word hid beneath our tongue. A sense of doom is knocking my knees out each time i'm trying to stand up. My eyes want you when it searches for a soft sleep. Come, rest in my eyes but not turn inwards and wake me up as I want to sleep for a thousand more years with you inside my eyelids. 

My love resembles a supernova, exploding love everywhere in the vacuum even if there is no one to reciprocate. The idea of the light at the end of the tunnel is seducing me, the reason I am not giving up on hope. Love is a terribly mysterious compass, with a scratched glass and a partial loss of direction. Still you move forward by tapping over its broken glass stirring the needle to explore the dead end. You either get more lost or you find the light at the end of the tunnel. Yet both provide you with experience. They say everything is fair in love and war and you say that this is both. My attachment with war, my repeated intonation which seems like war is my lover kissing on my neck is because it understands my depth. I live in it. How can one ever stop mumbling about their love?! I cry in the crooks of its shoulder and pity the martyrs lying beside me. Not because of sadness, but due to the fact that they cannot outlive their lover [war] with me. It means they truly didn't love. War isn't a hypocrite, it didn't promise me to not love anyone except me. It opens its gigantic arms to welcome whoever is obsessed with it. It has not assured to not destroy me because what does love do, if not ruin us?

Have you ever felt this intimate with a person before, where there's no boundary or edge in between? A terror-stricken past where you were terrified of everyone and where you had no inkling of the abundance of emotions. Where you had nerve wracking instances and embarrassment with one foot in the grave around a certain someone? Maybe, someday you'll realize. You'll apprehend to make someone grin like a Cheshire cat, look at the mishmash and yet you'll be in hot pursuit. You will run for a world beside them to experience resurrection. You'll have an unwavering longing to dedicate your future to them.

And that's when you'll canvass the reality in which you were living in. The reality which made you question your existence. Will I grow, let me die; I don't have a place, there's so much to say; maybe I am arrogant bail, in my teens, none of this is cold. This is a chaos where I belong. But it'll be debilitated in a flicker and they'll be eating your heart out.

So put on the mask and let's hope together.