In my memories,
on places we used to go to --
museum walls and cinema seats
cafe cups and restaurant platters
bus windows and train stations
hotel beds and motel sheets
motorcycle rides and fabulous bridges
condo lifts  and bedroom whispers
kitchen convos and shower sexes
midnight boat rides and stolen kisses

In my heart and mind you live, and
I hope, in time, you'll leave.

Things are changing fast,
and I'm here, simply waiting
for the sun to rise.

You used to paint pictures
with me. You were always smiling
when the brush glides on paper
as the colours spread everywhere.

Patiently, you'd recreate every
bit and impression of reality,
and add a version of your own,
until the picture will be perfect
with magical meanings
only we would have known.

But patience is a virtue
your self never learned.
One day, you were snapping photographs,
capturing moments, developing pictures,
pasting collages -- a panorama of
life you chose.

For weeks and weeks on end,
I went to those places where we used to paint;
Time is such a mystery to have put distance in a memory.
I would trade my whole life just for you
to colour it again. Like old paintings,
bring back its vividness; restore it.

And now, I am on this bus.
In transit.
A gift-wrapped box inside my bag.
I am sending it to you personally.
Take pictures with it and
live a happy life.

I've had trouble wrapping Christmas gifts;
it has always been your job to do this ***** work.
I work to get the Christmas bonus,
we do the shopping,
you do the wrapping.
Plain as day.

But you left me, and I had to do all the work by myself. And so
I made a list of steps in the new skill I have mastered:

1. Unroll the gift wrapper. Spread it. Cover all bases. Never adore the design and adornments; it will be ripped anyway.

2.  Put the gift in the middle of the paper. Estimate how much paper are you willing to save or spend and waste.

3. Tape the ends. Put tape wherever. Don't try to hide the tapes. Secrets are meant to be revealed anyway. TIP: The more you put tape, the uglier your gift wrap will be. You think tapes will mend loose ends but it will simply destroy the aesthetic value of your gift.

4. Fold and tape. Tape and fold. Design it however you like. Origami the **** out of it. It will be destroyed anyway.

5. Put the gift card. Write with your best handwriting. With a smile swathed on your face. Add a dash of artificiality. No matter what you put here, this will not merit anything; It will not be read anyway.

Four Christmases you have been wrapping those gifts. Now that I have
wrapped some this year, I'm pretty sure why you've left. Plain as day.

*PS Wait for the gift I am sending you over. I wrapped it just for you.

I keep making wrong decisions
chasing wrong people
for wrong reasons.

Perhaps
I have so much
love to give. People hope
I have none.

I have been chasing wrong
people. I want to know
who the right people are.

Why do you have to
Why do you have to, tell me
Why do you have to?

I don't know where to start
counting the days since you left.
Your love waned like the moon
hiding itself in the darkness;
its illusion accoladed by the stars
until your love vanished completely
as a new moon in the midnight.

I await the sun to break
the melancholy of the night sky
to give me a glint of hope
and a false idea of sustenance,
to nourish me in the morn
and burn me in the noontime.
To bring me to reality as it sets
the true colours of life,
the purple horizon and the orange haze
to the grim emptiness of the dark,
to find the new moon you've become.

I stand in this land of solitude
I stare at the sky every night

many moons have passed but
I continue to look for you, my love,
and wait for the moon to become full again.