Letter to my muse
My muse, an aparichith.
Everyday I pick up my pen and begin to write, hoping atleast this time I could write of something which includes about anything other than you. But I somehow end up writing about/for you. I have no idea what sort of block this is. Apparently, this is the only way I could admit to myself about what I feel because I've put all my feelings for you behind the closed doors so I couldn't talk to you or any of my friends about it. But let me consider the bright side, because you bring out the messy doodler in me who doodles and scribbles in the margins of my notes while studying. Dang! You bring out the artist in me, perhaps the childish artist. Do you remember the day I told you, the moon always reminds me of your name? Back then, I didn't realize that I'm in love with you and the fact that the moon doesn't just remind me of your name but you, the entire you.
You've hung your hat in my head. You are all that resides in it, like the shards of glass buried in my skin though I wasn't even aware I'd broken anything. But the pieces of glass in my head are a joy to behold. They neither tickle nor cause any kind of ache. They rather give me pleasure and I'll be found walking on air, having a grin on my face like a Cheshire cat, just on thinking about you. Well in that case, you can honour me with the-professional-over-thinker or perhaps the-best-dreamer awards.
My love for you has grown like the seed which I've never sown or perhaps I did but didn't remember sowing it and is still growing each day. I don't know for how long it keeps growing or if it will ever stop growing, although I ain't curious finding it out. But since I promised myself that I wouldn't restrict myself from anything that I feel (after all love doesn't restrict people) and put everything in black and white until the last moment, I will keep you alive in my poems or prose for that matter. For they are what I'll be left with in the end, because of the fact that I don't have any memories with you to secure forever in my brain.
Only yours, crazy loon.