For my pounding heart
There’s a day where we ride our scooters in the rain and after having heard renditions of vintage ghazals, the rain looks as if transported from a movie set- carried by a sepia butterfly.
I hold on to your kurta as if my life depended on it and while that’s unhealthy, I assure you it was a momentary thought clouded by the rationality in me to avoid all flags that are red because there wasn’t a flag as green as you.
It’s difficult to write about you, the closer the more taken for granted they say (it’s true). But for all my pounding heart, my intelligence brings me to the emotional conclusion that you’re made of stardust that’s rubbed off on me like a painting. And I’ve never been happier to be a canvas.
For all my pounding heart
Your kindness holds my heart in your hands
And tells me life is all but a chain of events where you only succeed. It’s in the rain, this inevitable rain that falls on us on every good day. And for all my pounding heart, this rain and our image on it gets subsumed in all of the infinite heartbeats.
feeloveuphoria 