To My Sinful Love.

My Love,

You've driven yourself bonkers enough to have swirled your way back to the chaos that I am. Or maybe, it's me, fallen for your chaos again, almost enough to wipe away any sin you might have marred me with in the past.
But, you did not cast any one sin over me- You were the sin, as a whole.
You, my love, were the most erroneous acts of mine, with a glorification that satisfied only my mind.
You, my love, bruised me irreversibly with your acts of apathy and ignorance.
You, my love, did not love me as I expected you to.
But, I'm an idiosyncratic soul for choosing to love you, nevertheless.

My trail in pursuit of your love, is a journey towards the impossible, inflicting pain over every bit of my flesh and bones. I know with all the surety in the world that for you to love me back in loads, just as I did, was asking for roots of the oak to dwell in desert sands.

Our paths would never cross,
our minds would never intertwine,
and our lips would never kiss again.
But, I will dream of trysts
we may have, and
we may have had.

I've watched only pure satin fall over the divine term called love. But, with you, I knew of the darkest spots this satin hid- With you, love was a whirl of intensity, scars, turmoils, insanity, distorted trust, and more. There was a beauty to these scars you had marked my skin and mind with, there was a serenity that draped me when your deeds were darker and more betraying than it ever should be. And I hated my strong mind for turning weak for you, for loving the things it shouldn't, and for subjecting its roots to the aches you had in store. There was very little that time obliged for me, when you had caught my weary steps with your surreptitious love. Time knew there was beauty to this only when it was short- and hence, I'll thank her for giving me reasons to know this wasn't to last longer. But, I hold a grudge against her for bringing you back to me, with the eyes of mischief, and words of clandestine love. There's that flickering reminder that I saw, and I wonder- WHY? Why do some things return, and remind you of every detail, every touch, every word, every vibe you felt and heard? Why did you come back to tell me of things that happened? Why did you ask me to not forget?

You have probably perfected your skills, of playing with the strings that hold my puppet-frame.
Because now you have me hanging mid-way between unmoved and moved, by your words.