There’s someone waiting

There’s someone waiting for me. Someone who’s eyes glitter and words resound. Someone who knows my palm by heart. Someone who caressed my hand as if that would make up for all the alternate endings that didn’t come to play.

You’re waiting for me, probablly watching the door because that’s where I once became the shoulder to rest your head on. You handed me stories in the disguise of blue paint, and when the paint was over and I gave you a glass of water, you offered it to me first. You tried to wipe away the paint on my fingers, the tears off my face, the stains off my heart.

I wish you could see yourself in all the ways that I see you. For more than the words you can’t bring yourself to say, for more than the black paint you love so much, for more than the things about you that you lost somewhere along the way. It took you seconds to reach my heart, just as long as it took for me to reach your hand. You’re waiting for me. You’re counting seconds. Up to ten, then you start once again. You watch the door. You’re waiting for me, and when I don’t turn up today, I hope you know why I couldn’t look at your fingers tracing lines in mine and say goodbye.

To someone called Malika that I met. Someone who said they’d wait for me to come back the next day.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. shashini97
    Oct 06, 2015 @ 00:56:12

    This is very touching. I could relate to every word you’ve written.


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