Give me one last hug

Give me one last kiss

Denial. People had called him paranoid. Maybe he was paranoid? Paranoid and insecure. They were the golden couple. They had faced all odds, fought tooth and nail to stay with each other. They were standing strong together, very much in love with each other. They had carefully built and lovingly nurtured their love like it was a child. Innocent, sweet and full of life. They were perfect and matched until the tiniest detail. His tan skin against his pale one. His sharp eyes gazing into his doe ones. His stability against his impulsiveness. People say opposites attract. Maybe it was right in their case.

And yet, what was these palpitations whenever he watched the other look more and more away from him? Perhaps he was just insecure as the others said. There was nothing wrong in their heaven they had created so lovingly. It was as rosy as should be, and it would stay rosy. Sure, they did argue a bit, but which couple didn’t. Something that didn’t need to lose sleep over on. They both had faith in each other and loved each other. That was enough. He was probably overthinking things, and there was absolutely no reason for the ugly pit in his stomach as the other very slowly, but steadily, started to drift from him. He was probably just imagining things, even as the feeling off. It was fine. After all, they had put so much effort and emotions in their little Paradise they had created through years. It would all turn out to be alright at the end.

I don’t want you to go, please

I just need you

Anger. There had been one last fight. The last cruel word. The last insult. The last blame-game. Who was the one who betrayed the other when both were at their most vulnerable? Or maybe he had been the one to say the last word. The last hurtful word because he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He couldn’t help thinking bitterly about how many times had he been told not to talk. And now he had gone and done it. The one time he should have kept his tongue shut inside his mouth. The one time he should have used that nonexistent filter connecting his brain and mouth. The one time he should have put thought into his words. The one time his so-called angelic voice turned into venom-filled hisses.

He hated the other, blinded by the intense negative emotions. He couldn’t stand the one who meant the world to him. Why could he understand that he couldn’t be tied down? That they couldn’t be tied down? Why couldn’t the other pick up his calls? Why was he always the one to rely on the responsible, handsome man? Did he not trust him to see through his own responsibilities? He was not a delicate princess who needs protection all the time. Why did the tall, handsome man have to be so perfect that his imperfections were laughing in his own pretty face? Fine. He will be perfect. He will show the others and his other half that he would be fine by himself. That he would be complete and whole all on his own. He would create his own Paradise, without the other, even if it would always be incomplete and barren.

I love you. I love you

I love you. I love you. I love you

Guilt. Both had been together for so long. They both had loved each other, cried with each other, laughed with each other, supported each other in every way one can help. They have been with each other through fire and brimstone. People used to envy their love, their passion, their mutuality for each other. Then when had their heaven collapsed? What had gone wrong? Where had they made mistakes? When had this rift started and widened till both were unreachable to each other, closed off and where had they messed up? How did they not sense it? How did he not realize the warning signs? Or did he ignore them on purpose, not willing to admit that nothing was perfect anymore in their world? Their perfect bliss, their miracle, which now seemed to be more and more like a curse.

Who was to blame for this hell? It was supposed to their Paradise. Their place of solace. Their place where everything came true. So who was responsible for its downfall? Were they both who had destroyed their one right belonging in this cruel world? Or was he the one? Had he pushed the other too far? Had he been too clingy? Too demanding? Too insecure? Too impulsive? Too toxic? Had he been the one to not notice the cracks until they had turned into massive rifts? Had he been the one to cause the cracks? Had he been the one to deliver the final blow to their carefully nurtured yet brittle relationship? Till everything had crashed and burned. Till he was left with nothing but try futilely to gather the cold ashes of their once miraculous Paradise.

I’m miracle

I’m miracle

Fear. He was restless. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t do anything. Was his other half, his better half, feeling the same? Was he doing well? Was he healthy? Was he happy? Was he sad? Was he taking enough care of himself? God knew that his tall, dark lover could even set water on fire if he ever tried to cook? Hopefully, he was not eating too much unhealthy food. Did the handsome guy also wake up every day feeling as if he had to struggle to breathe as he did? Did the others even eat or sleep? Or was the other wonderful, going on with life as if nothing had happened? He never had a single call nor a single word as a message as a way of communication. Nor was his countless calls and texts were ever replied. It was as if everything just got over as if nothing had ever happened? Like they had never been together. Like all their pain, tears, affection, passion was a delusion that he had cooked up. Had his better half moved on before him? Had his true soulmate honestly forgotten about him? About them?

Was he the only one stuck behind, unable to move and unable to call out? Was he the only one struggling feebly to not give up on life? Was he the only one between the two to feel as if drowning, choking and unable to swim or even stay afloat? Why was there a painful black hole in his chest, on every shred of emotion? Why did he wake up in the middle of countless nights, gasping and crying, his fingers outstretched as if trying to grab something (or someone) before it (or he) slipped away? What was this crushing sense of dread that he would probably never be able to regain their lost miracle? This unending despair that nothing would ever be the same again. It was all he could do not to scream and cry as their Paradise slowly started fading from even the memories.

Look at my eyes

You can see heaven

Grief. He missed him. No. He pined for him. His deep and clear gaze which always contained so much love for him which he couldn’t show in front of everyone. His scent which used to cling to him every night and day. His soft, yet deep voice whispering sweet nonsense as they made love all day and all night. His touch, always warm, sending delicious shivers and fuzzy squiggles in him. His kisses, which always tasted like strawberries and chocolate, still played on his own lips. The stable and robust presence of the other, which had saved him so many times in every way a person could be saved. The silly banter which always lighted up a tiring day. The warm hugs and sweet kisses which always drove their demons away. The comfortable and peaceful silence as they would only gaze at each other, no words needed. They had indeed been a match made in heaven. As if God Himself had created them lovingly.

Now, the musky and masculine scent had long left his body and faded from the sheets they had once made passionate love on. The deep and husky voice fading from his ears with only a faint, distorted echo remaining behind. The taste of ashes now in his mouth, empty rooms whenever he came back home. The cold shivers that now covered his skin. Many a night, he would stumble around, not even knowing where he was or what he was feeling as alcohol became the only comfort for him. Drunk and senseless, which was much better than the blinding stabs of pain and agony through his heart, mind and soul. An overwhelming feeling of being unable to breathe as inhuman sounds of sobs mixed with screams getting muffled in empty blankets and cushions. A sorrowful strain that had replaced the sweet melody their Paradise had once known. Till a black silence remained.

Let me show you what’s you’re missin’

Let me show you what’s you’re missin’

Acceptance. It has been so long since that fateful day. So many years had passed as they both had gone their separate ways. Sometimes they talked to each other, just the sundry. Neither of them venturing further as the wounds were still healing, the scars unfading. But it was now alright. Step by step, they were healing. They were both going where they always wanted to be. Whether their fated paths would cross again was a fascinating topic for debate, but for now, wherever they both are or wherever they both will be, he could only wish for both their happiness. Maybe, as people say, whatever happens, always happens for the best. May be time does heal everything and works wonders. Someday they will run into each other as they had once many, many years ago. And when they do, it will be as if nothing had ever changed. As if they had always been together. And this time when they meet, he will reach out first and never let go. Ever.

He was a fighter if nothing else and would fight back for his better half. He would fight back for their love. He would fight back for a love lost. They say that all is well in the end. If that was true, then perhaps, they may have a chance at redeeming the heaven once again, even if there would be irreparable cracks in it? When they were a bit more grown-up and had matured? When he would be slightly more worthy of standing beside him? When he would, at last, be able to communicate just how much the other meant to him. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. If it was true, then maybe they could just fulfil their promise of eternity.

He often wondered if things would be different if he had been the one to reach out first? If he had just held the beautiful hands first and never let them go? If he could have just reciprocated the deep emotions, he felt but couldn’t bring out? If he could have just swallowed his feelings and tried to be there? So many ifs, but no answers. Everyone gets a second chance, and he would be ready when it comes. He had always kept the faith and hoped that one day they both would walk together again as they once did when the wounds would have healed, though a scar would always be present. A hope, a glimmer, a chance at recreating their little piece of utopia, even if it would never be as perfect as before. An exquisite and imperfect home for their flawed passion. A broken Paradise for their equally shattered love. As long as they had each, everything would fall back in place.

I’m your

I’m your Paradise.

end.