i heart you

His manners were so right and his shirt so crisp. And his chopsticks game was on point. I ate noodles with hands and dipped Kit Kat sticks in tea. I double dared the world. He obeyed wilfully. 

My hair was a lengthy mess and my life messier. Sorry, not sorry. He was a man of order and so was his entire world. His entire universe. And it revolved around me. Not like he said that. He wasn't good with words. That was my forte but I knew it. You just don't challenge matters-of-fact. 

I used to run away. Often in my mind. He pulled me back every time. He knew the tricks. Chocolates, pens and time. Three precious gifts. I laughed at girls whose boyfriends did not treat them right. I had everything. He was my everything.

I knew why I stayed but I wonder at his reasoning. Why would he or anyone stay back for me? I was restless. Like a shot of black coffee. Strong and bitter. His favourite was latte, wasn't it? He still stayed. Sipping in. Slow and steady. 

I could not anymore. I was growing tired of chocolates. My stomach churned at the sight of it. My pen-stand was full. But, I had not much to write about. And I had all his time but not enough of mine. Too much of anything is a curse.

Every time I attempted to leave, I came back. Head bowed down with the burden of his goodness. So kind. I was embarrassed. Guilt was stronger than love. Proven. For how long though?

Please, let me go. Please. I begged. He suffered. He promised he would be a better person. Did he not know that he was already the best? What I wanted was anything but the best. 

And so I left. I ate up guilt. I strangled love. So destructive. But, I felt in my element after so long. I had just breathed. I had just grown wings. I had the world ahead of me. I was free. I was ready to conquer. World at my feet.

I don't know what happened to him. Does he still set his alarm at six in the morning? I don't know and maybe never will. I lost him. No, I pushed him away. I wonder if he still likes latte though. Or, has the new girl made him switch to tea? There must be some new girl, no? 

Hey, if you are reading this on your breakfast table while the new girl is ironing your light blue shirt, just know that you are perfect. Too perfect. Too good. And too much of everything else. It hurts me that I heart you. You heart me and I hurt you.

Chances are you will never read this. You only read real news, I know. The literary page had always been your coffee cup coaster and ah, that's a relief I tell you.