I sometimes think about hugging you in the middle of a passing crowd in the narrow fashion district. Neither of us can claim bewildering growth, we just perceive that someday these tiny baby steps will amount to an Alpen.

It wasn’t so long ago we met. As always with your saucer eyes, and a self-righteous smirk that says, ‘I’m going places”, you tuned in your satellite to my frequency. You were neither the muse I wanted, nor the mentor I needed, you are much more.

You’re a rare breed of passion and gentle. You re-ignite a fire in me that I thought was burnt out. The smoke from my incense, light as a feather may linger further as they appease your senses.

Your lips are cracked and laced, dark from cigarettes. After the third kiss, I didn’t mind. I just wanted someone who held my stare when they kissed me.

At times I wonder, why we craved each other. Your silhouette guided me like a compass. I learnt to make a bonfire by striking two stones at the golden hour. At the crack of dawn, our love turned into lust.

I hate goodbyes, I know you do too. My heart may shed a drop of tear, when you walk out. But the curls of smoke will bear your weight on lavender clouds past the sycamore tree.

Like a robin, every now and then my soul stirs up a ruckus. Those are moments I step into my head and playback the memories. I’m still drawn to your fragrance like an ant to honeysuckle.

Take care of you… for the both of us, take heed of hills and mountains along your path. I have to heal from you, and you have to do the same. Maybe One day we can stand to be in the same room again.

Till then, i’ll let the embers burn our story down and the smoke erase our slate, fading away before they reach the skies. No survivors recorded. just our ashes