Why do I think of you on a night like this. Your face adorns my wall and I flicker at the weakness of your smile, whenever you do smile. Why do I seldom think of you and me, and what if at all, could be, if only I were stronger not weaker, beautiful not less beautiful, living in another time and not this one. Why do I think of you, perhaps only when I am high or stubborn or withdrawn as I feel now? Why do I wonder, if he is wherever he is, what is he doing now? And why does it matter amidst the propounding problems that I have that I would have to think of you and make you one of them.
Why do I think of a laugh, a house, a place, a story that I believed in once upon a long time ago, of the people who knew so much, shared and loved so much that they wanted to be with one another...Why do I think of you at all? Isn't it sad, that I may have to live this life, like I have lived every day of it till now, without you, without knowing you, and you without even stopping for a second to know about me. Why does our love ever even matter at all. If only to my myopic configuration of peace, happiness and belonging in a part of a fiction I created, becoming the non-fiction of my life...our life.
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