02

"you're the sky and i am your cloud
and when we're together it rains."

It was past midnight and your hair was wet with summer rain. We had been running around the neighborhood like phantoms in the dark, soaked clothes clutched to our bodies, we were laughing like we had known the world was our oyster and that we rose from the very ashes that blew across its face every dusk.

In that meek darkness, overblown by the splendour of the rain and the anomalies of life, I could almost hear my bones straining against the inside of my skin, thrashing against the flesh, it had felt like my heart had planned a wondrous escapade. The placid wave of rebellion inside the valves in me had caused me to wonder about the misfortune of our circumstances and the errors we were prone to make while mimicking adult lives. 

But I could not delve deeper or mourn longer. I was surrounded by so much beauty and in those circumstances we were having so much fun that I had lost all notions of tragedy and the climax building up to that panorama. In this vision of mine where reality concluded with a blurr, the sound of your laugh was almost transparent, seemingly mingling with every thunder, as though I could hold it and kiss it anew and become one with the glaring lightning.

The hottest days of summer had given way to the heaviest downpours and the weather had gotten me dizzy and your constant provocations that were born from my repugnance of the rain did not leave any space for rationality to dive in. The moment was frighteningly tender and gloriously grave and maybe somewhere in the depths of my despair, I was waiting for this one second where you’d whisk me away and push me into the rain so that I could transform into the blinding specs of gold that seemed to emerge from your soul at the mention of things that you love. 

In the ironic brevity of the moment I remember you had popped a question with a simple monotonic freeze and I had tried my best to suppress the emotions that had overpowered the workings of my mind. 

"What if we had past lives and in that universe you and I had been strangers who had never rubbed shoulders? Wouldn't that be crazy?" 

It's not so crazy if you think about it. I don't add much to your life anyways so I hardly believe the mere absence of my saddened self would be of any substance. Your world wouldn't collapse and the enormity of your glory wouldn't be sullen by the bleak station of my heightened bravado. 

That was what I would have said if I wasn't silenced by my layman ways that had autopiloted me to simply answer with a - "Yeah, I guess."

I was, in more than one way, trying to act like us holding hands and sinking in the rain did not culminate to be one the most beautiful moments of my life and that the very absence of you would long time shatter the orbits of my planets. I was overtaken with fear of the unknown, that I did not mean as much to you as you did to me, that you did not hold me in the dearest of your prayers and that your God did not know of me like mine was aware of you. 

The inferiority of my circumstances did not help my notions of that period but over time they have come to evolve and now if you were to ask the same, my older answer wouldn't suffice because in all senses of reality, somewhere in us we were both aware of the symbiotic nature of our relationship and I was thoroughly impressed with both of ours unwillingness to dispel the truth that sprang from our origins, that we, so lost in the intertwined rhythms of our souls, would suck the rot out of each of our bloodstreams and depollute our forsaken hearts that hadn't succumbed to the wrinkles of time.

And that we did not meet from the fate of our past lives but instead what we were now was already the yesterday and that in the next life we were already something else to each other. Something along the lines of lovers who had the time of their clocks set to the same needles and who, despite the oddities of their stances never missed the vision of one another.

Or maybe not. Maybe I have now adopted the annoying uncertainty of your conflicted mind and that I too have been tainted by the severity of your crimes for I suppose I have found myself used to your delayed affections that follow me to my doom and I too have become accustomed to the ways of your words that scrape out the bloodied valves of my heart.

And perhaps I have come to love you a lot more for the brutality of your ways that bring cupid back to my doorknob. I love you because you are you and you are someone who leaves. I love you because you leave since in that prolonged period of gloom I do nothing but reflect on this scarred dynamic that you and I would both get tired of when the gravity of age would dawn over us. 

When the last May of youth would shed and we'd be left unclothed from the immaturity of our ways, maybe then we'd snap the locks of our fates or accept the peculiarity of our union and maybe then you'd love me when I love you.