You are mine

chapter 51

...That hugs you in the sunshine, wrapping you in a warm blanket of darkness from the glare of the blazing sun-'

I'm what now, a poet?

A disappointed groan.

Crumbling the paper extra hard in my fists, I squinted my eye and aimed it on the trashcan right around the corner of the table. Threw it. Missed.

I sighed.

Flattening the invisible creases out of the fresh paper with the back of my palm, I held the pencil extra hard.

'My dear-'

I racked my brain for a proper word. Should I just call her-

Fuck it!

'You are a trouble to my soul, my heart and my mind and all of this is just fucking me up so hard that I'm losing my everything to it.'

I stopped the aggressive scribbling and crushed the paper in my hands before throwing it again. Missed it again.

Closing my eyes, I let my back rest against the chair.

This isn't working.

But how am I gonna convey to her whatever's in my heart?

I gotta fucking do this!

I pushed myself back up and hovered over the fresh paper once again.

Staring at it blankly. As if doing so would make the paper start sputtering out logical words somehow.

Who knew writing a damned letter was this hard!

'My dear-'

Leaving the potential space again, I settled my pencil three below.

It stayed in the air for sometime.

I started rolling it across my fingers.

Well at this rate, I'm definitely gonna learn some magic trick to dramatically roll pencils around in between fingers.

I'm a mess!

My head was a mess.

I wanted to write it all but at the same time didn't know how.

How to find some suitable words for a garbage of emotions and then leak them down the alley of approval.

Instead I straightened my back. Closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. In and out.

I tried to ignore the picture of historian Tibetans, looking stupid while sitting in front of the walls cross legged.

I opened the eyes and looked at the empty wall in front.

Wow!

I've come pretty far.

Stumbling out of the chair, I leaped over the curtains and pulled them aside to gaze out in the empty abyss of a dark night.

No trace of stars or moon.

Just like there was no sun dyring the day.

I inhaled the nothingness out of the cold whisper of wind.

To become one with it.

Something. Anything to get the words out of me.

I wanted to get drunk on it. So steal its sneaky ways to perfectly portray whatever came in it's way.

Turning around, i settled back on the chair again and gripped the pencil.

I could almost hear its protests.