I'm a Writer

I’ve been standing out here for last fifteen minutes. I see you smiling sarcastically in there, through these glassy walls, which are nothing less than Himalaya for me that needs to be crossed barefooted to reach temple on the other side, a temple that has solutions to all my problems. Failing to reach the temple, which looks inevitable, based upon your behavior towards me, will abandon me into a mist of darkness, a darkness that will fill my whole life, suspending all my abilities to see, feel, touch, smell and hear but all about you.

I may not be the same once I walk a step back, I may change my mind about the humanity, I may lose interest in anything out there, I may look crazy to most of the people, I may cease to understand so many things, the things I had firm believe in, throughout my life, but, I’ll not step back from this desire of bringing you into my life, the life which seems of no use, otherwise.

I’ll make you dust my house in the morning, make me coffee, butter my bread and do the dishes while I’ll be away for work. I’ll make you crave for me on lunch, waiting prudently to open the door, hold my bag, take off my blazer and unbutton my shirt. I’ll scold you once you’ll unbalance salt in the food, kiss your forehead to bring you back to normal, have dinner with me in candle light, iron my shirt for next day, and return to me on bed by the time the darkness would have covered all the light out there, all the light in here.

I’ll kiss your neck, arousing you impatiently to have more, to kiss more, to touch more. I’ll break your nightgown shoulder strap, making you naked, inviting all of my belonging to witness the most spectacular scene of this universe. I’ll slip my hand down there, sending shivers down your spine, forcing you to place your lips over mine, rubbing tongues. I’ll kiss you good bye in the morning, making you crave for me while you’ll set the bed sheet, we put wrinkles to last night, making you remember all the beautiful memories we made there, forcing you to wish for more the next night.

I’m a writer, I’ll make you do whatever I want, in my stories. And my dearest, that’s where we are meeting again, until I’m consumed by these stories, and there’s nothing left of me, but You.