The Confession

That conversation through the phone when

September was on the brink of disappearance,

I snapped and melted pouring it all out to you ,

crying and rambling, with no coherence .


Now that we haven’t talked in a while,  
               
do you reminisce the midnight conversations?

Arguing about nothing and talking about everything

and I thought of you as my reflection .


You were the kaleidoscope, and I was the kid

who picked you out of all the others ,

and is now trying to consign to oblivion

all your magnificent patterns and colours .


Where do I go from here?

with the anticipatory anxiety of the unknown future ,

and a heart so brutally bruised and torn,

that can never be sutured.


There were so many things I wanted to say

but there was a fear of ruining everything we had built,

I have just been too afraid for too long

I cannot keep it in any longer , the words have to be spilt .


It is a truth I can no longer keep

locked inside my fragile mind ,

you will see it leak from my eyes

and conveyed with all the words I can find .


That evening when the unavoidable conversation

lingered in the silence between us ,

‘‘I miss you’’ meant “Please don't leave, ever”

I hoped to not leave things undiscussed .


After the last conversation

I booked the night train ,

and fled the scene with only you in my mind

knowing all the efforts were in vain .


Feeling you in the air surrounding me

from a thousand miles away ,

I want to sit you down and release

all the emotions I cannot downplay .


All the piled-up letters I can never send ,

sketches with your hair falling to the side of your neck,

poetries with your name on it ,

has made me grow into a wreck .


How do I abandon the memories of

cutting through the avenues at night ,

strolling in the afternoon rain at the end of august

and calling when the sun shined bright ?


When I see your eyes again

I'll make sure I don't see stars ,

for it'll make it easier for me to let you go

and heal all the scars.


But now that it’s come to an end

I hope I’ll move on from the pain,

not use my best melodies for your symphony,

and remove your picture from my favourite frame .