The Incurable Romantic

Thoughts and intentions cannot be truths. As much as actions can be. That doesn't make my love for you any less true just because it is caged inside of my mind as a mild intention. However, I would never know what the truth was from your side. Because your intentions never transpired into an action. And both you and I, and the fleeting, highly improbable emotion between us, disintegrates, unquestioned, unanswered.

Now, why I take an exception (that only actions can be classified as the truths, whereas my and only my love stands true even when it is a mere intention), is because of this. 

I have come across numerous other men, off late. Numerous. An adjective that comes for more than one. More than many. Some of whom are rebellious and wildly attractive. Non-conformists. Artists. Men rich in emotion. Rich in time. With the promise of an enticing adventure. Hinting of worlds I have never explored. Touching bits of mind that I didn't know even existed. I have come to know quite a few such, in the recent past. 

Yet, last night. When I was stoned and asleep on the street, under the stars with my hands under my head, staring up, I was trying to figure you out. In a semi-awake semi-hallucinated state of existence, I wondered. When clouds look like people and things, what intentions do they have. What conspiracies. Because, the sky was overcast, I couldn't trace the stars. I saw two clouds, dark water-bearing monsters, lying side by side. I saw hands and legs, and hair. And bellies, and heads. Every time I shut my eyes for a brief few seconds, the two clouds would fall apart into each other, merge.

I wished, we were the two clouds. I missed our mundane moments from the past. Wanted to steal them away to the present. Or hide them away for the future, may be.

I don't remember, how long I was there that way. Must have been for a greater part of the night. I felt this deep, unhindered connection with you. I realized, you are the one I will be in love with forever. 

Courtesy: Krish