Saturday, March 3, 2018

To Ana, with love

Is that even your real name? I will never know. Was the story you told me about yourself real? I will never know.
What I do know for sure is that you were an oasis for a tormented soul, on a dark spring night. That you vanished away from my life without a trace, taking a little bit of my old life away doesn't tarnish the memory. If anything, it makes our brief encounter all the more surrealistic, all the more dreamlike.

I remember seeing you walking in, thinking that I can already see a gentle spark. I remember the nose ring, and the large glasses. You were at home, behind those little pieces of armor. Yet I wanted to embrace the soul behind the armor. And take you home. I remember the little dark thoughts that eerily reflected mine. I remember you asking me if I was secretly a murderer, and were you the next victim.

I will never know what I was to you. A getaway on an eventful day? A soul whose darkness you could relate to? Truth is, it doesn't matter.

When we lied with our naked bodies entwined, when you kissed my face with your nose ring, it was more than just a spark. After, when we were content, and you were holding on to me, it was a moment I wished I could freeze.

In the morning, it was a pleasant surprise to wake up to your naked body beside mine. And when you dressed and were leaving, when you said you'd meet me again, I forgot to ask the all important questions - in this life time, or another? In this world or a different one? Will you remember my name when you see me again?

In a day's time you were gone, from my life, with no way for me to ever reach you again. No phone number, no email, not even the name to reach you by. Maybe you wanted to show me how fickle human life is. A moment, and you are gone. I would be lying if I said it didn't break something deep within. But it is fine. We are all broken people.

You have a little piece of me with you. Take care of it, if you can, lest it reminds you of a beautiful night we had, when our souls made love as much as our physical selves. To the persian princess who met me on a night when I thought death wouldn't be a bad choice, You will not be forgotten.

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