The fireflies are glowing tonight. Amidst all this clatter of conversations, laughter, mirrors and stolen glances, I can feel your eyes following every movement of my hands. Your gaze is fixed on my eyes. Like a Hunter to the prey. Only, that this, isn’t a hunt. We are familiar. Or atleast the knowledge is sufficient enough in its history to warrant boredom. We are that common term that describes steadfast familiarity. We’re friends. Or that unease of something more or something less.
You’re that stranger I stumbled upon long ago, who stayed, lingered on the edges and slowly got under my skin. I am still familiar with that tilted head and droopy eyes. Reminders of the perfume you used to wear. Didn’t I say that we were familiar? Then what makes you keep the glass down and stroll towards me? The fireflies, the muted lights, the place where we meet every year or certain memories both of us evade. This wasn’t ever easy. Yet we hangered on. What makes you linger on my words every time? Just my familiarity or the torment of unfinished desire? I would never know, as you choose never to tell. Yet on nights like tonight, you stay. Like you live for the memory of tonight and astonishingly somehow that is also a memory of me. Tonight we go back to our beginning every year and quietly wonder what if we had never met the other. Had we not touched the surface, how dispassionate would reality be? Would tonight ever matter?
You’re that stranger I stumbled upon long ago, who stayed, lingered on the edges and slowly got under my skin. I am still familiar with that tilted head and droopy eyes. Reminders of the perfume you used to wear. Didn’t I say that we were familiar? Then what makes you keep the glass down and stroll towards me? The fireflies, the muted lights, the place where we meet every year or certain memories both of us evade. This wasn’t ever easy. Yet we hangered on. What makes you linger on my words every time? Just my familiarity or the torment of unfinished desire? I would never know, as you choose never to tell. Yet on nights like tonight, you stay. Like you live for the memory of tonight and astonishingly somehow that is also a memory of me. Tonight we go back to our beginning every year and quietly wonder what if we had never met the other. Had we not touched the surface, how dispassionate would reality be? Would tonight ever matter?
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