It’s happening. I am awake at 4 in the morning, to the terrifying undeniable truth that there is nothing I can do to stop how I’m feeling. Because I don’t want to stop. Ever.

We floated sideways on a white foam cloud. We stood there gazing out at the city in that chilly almost November evening. We swayed, we kissed, we felt. We talked, and yet we were quiet. There was small-talk, Leonardo di Caprio, sarcasm, and sugarcoated jokes. But then silence. I could hear your heatbeat. Feel every cosy breath of yours. Nothing existed outside that radius except us. I don’t like the things you don’t say, and I love the things that you do. My shape contorts into things you want me to be, or maybe I have always been what you wanted? Your body is warm and taut against my shriveling frame, as we hug.

Baby, it feels beautiful to know you’re the only thing I have that is mine; truly, hopelessly and heartbreakingly.

“Yeh baazu mera hai. Mine, all mine.”

We don’t know what will happen, when and why, if at all, but know that around you, I have completely immersed my soul in love.

Pehlay jaan, phir jaan-e-jaan, phir jaan-e-jaana ho gaye.