b.

oh god. how is it when i stay up late i start thinking about her? i wrote something for her some time back and kept tinkering at it, i doubt i might ever complete it but somehow playing with it keeps me happy.

For B.

Because I will be needing you
some time tomorrow,
or
five minutes from just now,
when this phone would have been making
only the softest of sounds,
a small thing at first
and then explode
into the beast
with an urgency
that only I could have dreamt up.
I’ll jump, fly, break everything to
choke it
and it would have been
you
on another end, too far away from here,
gifting me
only the sound of your breath.
Because you know,
the smallest measure of your silence
is more than enough
to subdue me.

B, I would swear to you right now,
with finger blood and all the
multiple crossing of hearts,
exactly the way you taught me;
that the next girl I go out with,
buy flowers for, sleep with,
in short,
my next miscellaneous love,
will bear that exact virus
of your smile.
She will bind her hair
the way you do it,
and cut it short on a whim.
Seek my opinion on buying skirts,
and ignore it anyway.
Laugh at everything I make fun at
and cry only because of me.