We are mostly on call with each other. We talk like lovers, like best friends, like a bunch of oldies or even like siblings sometimes.But we don't keep conversing constantly,sometimes even for an hour or two, none of us cut the call. He does his work, I do mine, quietly .When and if the call ends, he still calls me back; If he has to go somewhere or do something he tells me he'll call me back. I do the same. It's simply how it is.
Now,I think this is what love to me is, this silent never ending phone call,in the background, just there, a sigh ,a hello away. Not interfering until required, not pressurising to keep it interesting all the time, not demanding. Just connected; just connected without having to talk constantly; connected, even without those addictive morning kisses; connected, without meeting as often as before; connected, just because we want to.
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You know the feeling you get, when you lie down on your bed with newly changed bedsheets and pillow covers for the first time after a long day? Yes? That's him for me but make it every single day, without it being a long day even. He is a fresh sheet for my exhausted body and a soft and sweet smelling pillow for my heavy head. He is all that I need sometimes. He makes me sigh contently after a hectic day and makes me laugh and snort like hyenas and pigs most of the other days. He is my favourite pyjama shorts. My lazy day.My potato and a perfect combination of all things I need. So don't ask me how much I love him. I'd just smile and walk away. Just like he does when I ask him that. But he never walks away ,he kisses me, he shows me. And I know I am his fresh sheets ,his favourite pair of pyjama shorts and almost his crispy salted potato chips too.
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If I ever say "you look nice" and you respond with "I know, when do I not?" ,we can be best friends or soulmates ,your call.
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It's so cute how moms can tell you about something with such accuracy but forget they've told us about it, twice already.
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This holi, I hope you didn't play
with colours,Corona
Or 'that' person's feelings.
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So effortlessly you lied,
my poetry for a while, smiled.
Now it's just my tear drops,
separated by commas
and never ending full stops.
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Her head was light, her heart brave.
She puked on him mid sentence, and dug herself a grave.
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I thought I was jinxed until I found you.
Now, I know for sure. Thank you!
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Write me down neatly,
in your heart ,my dear
In bold block letters,
Only if you care
Underline me with your kisses,
describe me with your verses.
Add some music,
Add some charm,
Make me a love song, my dear.
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