It was beautiful, what we had. You know how it was?
Like a glass of chilled water to someone who’d walked for miles in the scorching heat, like ghungroo to a classical dancer, like the microphone to a performer. And like oxygen to me.
You came like moonlight and left like sunshine, and in the entire while you stayed, you were a whirlwind. You were medicine, and I had withdrawal symptoms. You were a shooting star, and I had night blindness.
We were all the puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together, yet with you by my side, our picture felt complete.
You taught me to see colours in monochrome, windows in houses and stardust in humans. You taught me not to fall, when all I did was stumble. And when your eyes met mine in the masquerade, I knew I wanted to be loved too, even if only by you.
But then it was all over and you left. I didn’t call out your name and you didn’t turn around. I didn’t tap my feet to that one song ever again, dropped the idea of putting fairy lights in my room, and I’ll never ever forget your crooked smile that starts from your lips and ends at your eyes.
Of all the things that could have been, you taught me some stories are not meant to be written, some songs are more sacred than others, that some eyes twinkle more than all the stars in the sky.
In less than an hour, you taught me so much, that I was beautiful, faith is still not lost and there are really some moments when you feel infinite.
But oh dear, ours was just a one dance stand, and my feet are already bruised.