I thought about this prompt you gave me. A ******* a train, I had fallen in love with, Silhouette of her hair border lining the darkness of eventide towards Bangalore.
We met in a ground a year later, no intermittent contact held, like quantum-entangled electrons do, dumbfounded how it'd happened. And again on the road in Bangalore three years later.
A direct line to the eye's sight, first time, under a morning seeming streetlight. A latch bolded in the color of the eyes, I longed to deep dive in.
Words finding silence at the wrong time, so they resorted to not all things and happenings having reasons and fear of consoling a needy in a fear of an upside down going failure.
And like between life and death are only breaths, the silence between the sentences was filled with ours and death by chocolate, and thoughts of silences of the other's mind, unheard of, aware only of an unbeknownst wind of familiarity of an unknown kind.
I had fallen in love multiple times, which is to say I'd sifted through the earth to the other side and started rising, from it, in it.
Following down the gushes of time sinking and rising sensations of guilty pleasures in the chest, insinuating that the thing of beauty is a joy forever but only when not possessed.
***
There's an old man, my mother's father not loved by anyone, angry all the time illogically unnecessarily hurting others, drunk trashing long hair and glasses, rusted in the smell of decay.
I make me fall in love with him, again and again and again, so that he knows he's not alone, always.