Malana Cream and honesty.

I kept avoiding conversations about you. It felt good and forgotten.I felt the orenda working in me. But sooner or later, this had to be. They said, you have made many friends. Few of them being boys. Of course, it was no deathstroke to me.Over-thinking and shit, maybe.I remember, I was the first girl in your life.Best friend.Lover.And otherwise too. Now that we are no more than just a memory we treasure, I wonder what is it you are trying to do.
The same shy and socially awkward guy. The once girl-repellent-geek.Now a guy with 4 girls as his bffs. I’m happy I have groomed you enough. I am happy ,it is us you are searching for in every girl you meet. ‘Cause I know, you are filling up the gaps. The gaps that a lover has made can be ignored. But the space that a best friend has had is a fucking horcrux, you gotta carry it all around with you, your whole life. Trying to end it every time you make a friend. Desperately expecting this person to be of the same proportions of madness as your long lost best friend. But babe. This horcrux is not the kind that you can let go. Every best friend, once lost is a droid in your heart. And I am your malana cream,darling. I may not be a fantastic beast but I am what you see in your phosphenes.
I love you still and forever will. But we will never be together. After all, isn’t that true love. separated and yet nothing changes.Not even a million fights could make me hate you.

But you are no more my holiday wish. I haven’t obliviated our past. I know it looks all messy.The hair, the bed, the heart, the life and much more. But I am living my dream. And I hope you do too. 🙂


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s