Tell them.
Seems inappropriate.
I talk to them.
Engage deeply.
They let me in and I let them
Know my vulnerabilities.
It's almost tempting to
Have them in my life.
It's almost dreamy to have
Them by my side.
I make paper planes out of
Letters I write and
Send them to the moon.
I craft reveries into
Flowers and smell their
Fragrance till my heavens
Are adored with colours.
But it goes nowhere.
The boat full of fantasies
Capsize.
Brick by brick the castle
Of fancy starts to fall.
Falling would be good,
But things fade invisibly
To make me carry the scars
Of my pretentious
Forgetfulness between
My teeth.
You too are slipping
Away now. And my inability
To stop you is up my
Sleeves readily.
The butterflies of your
Memories are poised for
A reverse metamorphosis-
And I don't understand
Why I'm more concerned
About preserving you
In larval stage or pupal-
Than holding your
Completeness that's
Already there.