I apologize for liking you on Hinge purely on intuition
It hurts to admit I mistook your kindness as a door open for my wonder

I’m sorry I yearned for you from the day I heard your most gentle voice
From the day we first met, when I tried to find you in the parking lot of a cinema, in the rain

Dearest,
I was up too many mornings, counting minutes from 6 a.m.
At the time you wake, even on Saturdays and Sundays
I secretly wish you slept more, to comfort the chest of my anticipation

I’m sorry to have learned your schedule, purely out of care, and also romance.
I honestly promise I do not stalk,
except through invisible feelings,
except through the way a body shows without touching or words without telling

But I’m sorry that I find your perfectly correct grammar in texts quite irritating.
Your composition too sensible and unbelievable
Your ignorance towards me, too hurting
I feel too jealous because you might never think of me in a soft pink light
Or because you might actually never think of me in any light

I’m very sorry however, as I think of you too frequently,
and I don’t know when that will end

It isn’t your fault.
This is surely, absolutely on me
for I know I lack colors
Both in flesh and feelings
As there are plenty of fish on Hinge; so open to the ocean of your eyes
I should be no obstacle to your perfect match and mutual passion

I regret swimming in the river of my endless, unrequited sea
I regret to have had this sort of courage with only you, which is oddly shocking
I’m sorry to bother you when I reach out to say  hi,
Because I carefully try to calibrate that weekly

I’m sorry for the hundreds of times I believed
there might be one-tenth of a chance
Of me and you,
in an alternative universe
where I might deserve you
Maybe?

And I apologize again for always bringing up movies with you, in sense and nonsense
Because I am unable to tell you what I want to
As my 29-year-old stupid inhibitions play around
I apologize if I behave disturbingly distant,
but I will always be curious about your birds, and your neck that hurts

As you can clearly see,
I am sorry for innumerable things

But
I am never sorry to have met you
I am never sorry to think of you, and write of you
I see you
in colors of pink, red, and yellow,
in colors of blue and sea
in embrace of distance and memory

I just wanted to put this all out
in any way
Let this be a digital ship-in-a-bottle,
in the middle of a vast ocean

Oh wet soil
I yearn to be consumed by you
I yearn to bury myself inside you
As there is no greater romance than freedom

I yearn to free myself inside your moist and warm belonging
I want to smell the unmodified uncapitalized brittle molecules
I want to bury my face inside you and shriek
I might stop when I am breathless, I beg you to please understand me

Oh wet soil
Enriched with the blood of Bhagat and his brothers and lovers
I want you to set me free so I can die with comfort
Thought of death has become too frequent yet unaffordable

I want you to invite me
Let me inside your air conditioning
Thrill me, hug me and take me away from my owners
I want to enter you and rest my tired soul

Oh wet soil
My father calls me a thankless child
But I think death of my soul is an absolute death for me
Hang me, my cowardice, my lifeless unkind limp body

I am sick because of you both
Every particulate matter in my body
Every day of my life
I will blame you both
For my unending sadness

And because I have some heart
Some to keep me alive
Some to care for the gift of life
I can never tell you how I feel
But I blame your ignorance and cruelty

And also because
I have some spirit in me
I did not and do not want to die yet
Even if I hate myself
More than I have come to despise you

I regret at my nomadic life
Why did I leave myself to escape you?
Because after all the pain and fire
It feels like you never left
As I keep trying to crawl away

There is no air to breath
There is no help in sight
There no hope rope to grab
I await my courage
To let me go