Chalo, chaand Ko nehlatey hai aaj.
'Chaand mey bhi daag hotay hai'
Chalo, yeh bahana bhi mitatey hai aaj

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Stop.
Don't read.

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I wish to die before you; just by one day.

So many things I burden you with,
to be given genuine attention and care and forever kind of love to.
But they lie, within few hours, stuffed in your drawers,
weighing down under important stuff.
They crouch crumpled in corners of your travel bags; going places, uninvited.
They lie forgotten with other 'not used very often' things; in attics or under beds.
They bear scars of torn edges like forgotten hereos; once applauded.

They have been waiting. More I shall continue to give.
They too shall have to wait.

No complains. When there is so much love, nothing else matters.
The hand written, hand made, hand picked, hand woven, framed, wrapped, chosen, plucked, gifted - with a part of me in it;
the unappreciated, the forgotten, the ignored, the lost;
mean nothing at all in the bigger scheme of eternal love.
But, I just wish I die before you, just by one day.

Then all those things will have their day, cradled in your arms, kissed by your lips, hugged to your chest, breathing next to you on our bed as you stay wide awake caressing them, for one entire day, after I die,
I wish.

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This is a
'Coming Out'
story.

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