I keep snippets of love letters you wrote me, just a few lines that still mean something, because keeping and reading the whole will only break me more. But these lines I’ll carry, just like a part of you will remain within, just like thoughts of you become tangible when I’m empty, softly touching me. I know you still love me, and you know that I feel the same, but we live in a world of corrosive complications and saccharine meaninglessness lacking depth, and I’m happy that though we were broken together, loving each other in that glitch ridden, fundamentally flawed way, we avoided that falsity that seals so many relationships in gaudy envelopes with insipid stamps with hearts meaning nothing. I’d rather love madly and deeply and lose, I’d rather give you my all and then let go, I’d rather pour everything into us before letting things fade, because love is a myriad things, a plethora of meanings, but without substance and intense emotion backed by sacrifice and selflessness, it never existed. And so, here’s to us, and here’s to whoever we’ll be, and wherever we’ll go, and to whomever we need, finding us, and giving us both a better you and I.
© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)