I comment “yes daddy” on your videos
You comment “prettiest gurl” on my photos
We are just friends, but just maybe, just maybe we want something more.

a memory

the delhi monsoon, 2016
smashed inkpot like the sky
my head on the bus’s window
yours too
i said, “so what’s up?”

from there you would often turn around, have a look at me, shake your head, let out a shaky breath, give me that lazy smile and your eyes would be showing adoration, you would turn back and answer to my many questions

we talked about our classes, our future maybe not as a pair but as individuals

at some point, you and I started talking about politics, developing ideas out of the very little information that we had.

at some point, you and I started talking about art, dancing our fingers on the glass, creating figures and emotions.

at some point, we got to school

you stood behind me, the kids were just too slow, because the hormones had yet to be released, you were a little taller than me, your head dropped, and you whispered, "I want to be in the same class"

and both of us grinned, pushing all our feelings out, somewhere gloomy, twilight-like, dark and unseen.

you introduced me to your sister
you told me that you wanted to pursue sports
you said will talk to later

neither did you pursue sports nor did we talk again in person

I'm spinning in circles, wanting someone who might be mine, but I'm too scared to do that, trying to make myself believe that you really don't exist. I'm ******* selfish, yeah.

trapped here with the weight of memories and emotions that I don't want to revisit.

boy, boys are bad for you, I am telling you.