Magar, agar, lekin, phir kyu?

I search for a face like your's
in my family,
on the roads,
in the gardens,
on the commode,
beside the scooter,
beneath the blanket,
inside my wallet,
over the beaches,
underneath the trench coats,
surrounding the bungalow walls,
in between old nails,
beside the dosa alleys,
within my needle set,
on top of the birthday caps,
swinging with the clothesline;
beguiling,
surpassing
all
my
device.
Such is,
my
deep;
crevice.

I once had a boy.

Scrawny and shorter than usual, his genius reputation entered the room a few seconds before he did. There have been afternoons where his presence was too overbearing for a girl of only 17. Afternoons that wore out my thumbs pressing the keys to type to him; stories. Afternoons I spent trying to walk through the musty roads of Bombay to not remember his face anymore. Every other song was our song but lyrics faded in the recollection of us. There were afternoons that I could have spent with my physics tutorials, but instead I wrote letters to him. Now every question about my stoic existence comes back to him and especially the sentence; I once had a boy.
I don't anymore but that doesn't bother me as much as the feeling that one fine day I will begin to say this sentence and you will call me and tell me that I was wrong.
I will walk the streets again that day.

I don't want to call this a deal.

But anything more soppy would make you call me a fag. Can two people remain in that zone where deep-seated conversations happen without moving up or down the friendship ladder and not cause awkward silences the next day? Of course, this isn't a rhetorical question and by two people, I am essentially talking about us. It makes no sense to calculatingly trust you with my insight because really the only thing I lack now is someone who isn't a friend.If nothing follows except shrill toned watsups to which a suitable reply has never been invented, then why do I feel the need to tell you what upsets me each time you enter a room that I am in? Why do I take an effort to walk in your direction when I don't even know what to tell you first? That I want nothing? I should come with a sign that says: Let's talk over some coffee without becoming friends. Especially on Facebook.




Uff. I have lost all my maturity. And now I have to be all cryptic and shit.