Underneath

Long ago, really long ago, you asked me to listen to this song that speaks of a love as unbound as the breeze from the footholds of a mountain. And then, 3 years was it? Or was it just two that we separated, we parted ways. Or dare shall I to say that it was you who had realized that if and when it would end it would end with nothing but slivers of blood from a heart torn open by the sharp razor of distance; we would gather them, of course, between the pages that would always stay unwritten, as unrecognizable patterns of my unrequited and for you, an undeserving affection. 

There have been times when I've watched you from a distance, live, write and sing about people around you, about things, about men, about your fears and insecurities. And with jealousy and selfishness I have tried searching fragments of me, us. Deep inside I've reveled and grieved at the same time at your desperation. But never have I found me or any mention of us. Broken, I have returned to my life but every time with a disbelief that I have been forgotten, so easily and so entirely.

This, I write in the wee hours of a morning that will arrive with a newness as I have dared to write about you, yet again. Even today there are nights when I stay awake, feigning a sleep, watching you smile from the only photograph I somehow remember. You haven't aged for me. For me you, and as a matter of fact, everything about us had just frozen 7 years back, when you had decided to disappear. I have moved on and so have you, but that frozen, uninhabited place, still lives. Somewhere in me, underneath the deepest and the darkest of my fears lies the address to this place. And I know, that you too remember that place.