And for me, it's you
The music was loud and the floor beneath us was vibrating to the sound of music. Our hands and feet trembling to the bass. I always hated loud music. It feels like noise. I cover my ears to the sound of your breath in an empty room. I guess that could explain how sensitive I am to sound. But I’ve learnt to adapt to it. It’s the sound of your heartbeat that keeps me alive. I always wondered if you knew that. But me telling you would make no difference to you. You’re still gonna love me the same way.
I was scrolling through my gallery when I found a picture of us. That was the only one we had together. They say a picture holds a thousand memories. Mine was just one with you because places held memories of you. Every time I walk down the lane with someone else, I make sure to tell them that I walked down that road with you and we would take a hundred rounds around the same path until I ask you to change the direction.
It’s funny that I keep writing about you. Last time I did this, it didn’t end well. But I kept writing about him and now I’m writing about you.
Words escape my fingers and go onto the keypad when the thought is about you. Seems like every inch of my body carried emotions for you passing it on to a text or a paper. It was always about you and not once about me. Even when I try to write about me, it contains pieces of you. I guess this is what love does to you. Take you over and wraps you in a blanket and holds onto you until you see the daylight again. Or maybe this is what love does to me. Loving you was a winter night. I couldn’t wait to feel the summer days again. But now it’s getting too warm and I want the cold back. Silly me, you must think. Love has a different meaning for everyone. And for me,