An open letter to the guy who is a mess

To the guy who is a mess,

I cleanse my room, decorate the walls, cover the floor with carpet…and wait for you to come over and make it a mess once again! You scatter everything of its place, rumple the bedsheet, take down my favorite posters, erase my written words from the wall, you attempt to make coffee or omelette just to make my kitchen a mess, you feed the whole milk to our pet cat, you polish the fish off plate and keep rice as it is, you bring cauliflower when I ask you to buy broccoli, you spill the ‘Bourn Vita’ on my freshly prepared bed, you leave the half eaten biscuits on the table and ants come to bite me, you make airplane tearing my notebook page, you fill the washing machine with your old dirty jeans and my favorite jacket, you replace my face wash with your shaving cream, you open the window amid storms and dusts come to puzzle me; you open the window amid rains and the sudden splash makes my things wet…
Still I open the window and wait for you. I see two people in the same umbrella and imagine us; I watch the colorful cars on nearly empty rainy streets and imagine us on a road trip. I enjoy our midnight conversations, drunk confessions and fights over a bar of chocolate or a tub of ice cream. I miss the passionate kisses. I love it how you skip the dinner and eat all the cookies at 1 am. I love it how you save the last cookie for me. I watch you as you fall asleep on the floor like a baby. I truly wait for you to come and make my room a mess once again. I find messy things really attractive when the reason is you. I inhale you from those messy things, I touch you through them. You are my mess.

The girl who waits for you.


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To the girl who was my everything

To the girl who was my everything,

Girl, I know you are mad at me. I do understand your anger; that’s why I am writing to you rather than speaking on phone.
Yes, I am guilty. I have cheated on you with another woman. But believe me, I didn’t do anything intentionally. This is happening to me for the first time. I was always loyal to you. I never let any woman touch my shirt, keep head on my shoulder; I never hold their hands. I have politely said ‘no’ to coffee dates. Still, I couldn’t resist this woman. I have discovered a new me getting lost in her. She has colored my soul with a vibrant shade of red. And this red is the color of devastation. For the first time, I am letting my house collapse on fire, I am watching the storm raffle my belongings and a part of me getting shattered with you. I am watching you falling apart and dying inside.
I don’t know why this is happening to me. As if a sudden ray of the afternoon sun has touched me to make me do things that are purely illogical. I have taken off the shirt tagged with ‘good boy.’ For the first time, I’m enjoying being a bad boy. I didn’t gain anything being good for years. I know, being bad won’t help either. Still, I want to get carried away. I know, you are probably cursing me, praying for my destruction and I want to get destroyed, happily. The sin tastes so good!
I will never deny our connections; I will never disown any association with you. You will always be there in a secret cell of my heart.

The boy whom you don’t want to see anymore.