Like a painting.
and every time I look at it, yet another colour fades away.
I want to write, so badly.
I want to write that down everything that I remember,
All those things that made me fall in love with you just a little more.
And yet every time I try the words, the thoughts, the memories
dance just a little further out of reach.
I want to remember your voice.
What it sounded like…that quiet, deep, sexy intensity to it. The way I’d have butterflies in my tummy just listening to you speak.
The way I’d memorised every inflection of your voice, so that if I was listening with my eyes closed, I would still know your expression.
The way you speak malayalam without an accent, and so fluently, so perfectly that I was jealous of you for doing it better than me.
The way you shocked me when you spoke English…because for that you had an accent. The way the shock gave way to a pleasant surprised feeling when I realised you weren’t putting it on, that the accent was genuine.
The way I’d purposely talk in English after that so I could hear that sexy, sexy accent of yours.
I want to remember your eyes.
That deep black.
That sudden light jerk of your brow as you lifted your eyes when someone spoke to you.
The way I’d catch my breath when you’d look at me, the way I’d be wondering what you were seeing.
The way your eyes would light up when you smiled.
That mischevious glint when you were smirking or thinking of something naughty to say.
And your smile.
Your gorgeous, gorgeous, melting smile. And the way I’d have to look away before someone caught me staring.
The way your mouth would turn down instead of up, and you’d look down when you were trying to bite back a smile.
The way you wanted to laugh, but held it back, when my mother was thoroughly embarrassing me by telling you about the cow. The way I loved you for not laughing, but worried myself silly over what you must be thinking of me.
I want to remember my fascination with your sexy, sexy hands,
and the way I’d be all nerves - butterfingers, when I’d have to sit next to you at breakfast. The way I couldn’t quite breathe, much less eat.
The way I’d have been satisfied to just *chinpalm* and drink you in with my eyes.
The way I couldn’t do it because we were surrounded by people.
The way I always seemed to lose my voice and be incapable of conversation when you were there beside me.
I want to remember the adorably awkward-ish way you walk,
the way you’d climb stairs two at a time,
the way you’d sit on the balcony and read in the evenings…and that one time you forgot you were on the balcony and you nearly stood up and my heart nearly stopped because I thought you might fall.
The way I’d laughed weakly after that.
I want to remember random things.
I want to remember the way you were complaining about how, between them, your dad and mom had called you sixty times in four days.
The way I couldn’t help but laugh at your expression.
I want to remember how, when no one was looking I’d compared our shoe sizes ‘cos you seemed to have such big slippers.
I want to remember the stories you’d told me about school,
about your Math teacher,
about basketball.
I want to remember that incident when we were all in the garden and that lady was being all gossipy about you.
I want to remember how irritated I was, how I felt like telling her to shut up, that she didn’t know anything about you…that she didn’t know you.
And then you walked in on us talking, and you knew it was about you. And the way you still put on a smile. I could see your agitation, in the way you were playing with the light switch, and you looked so much like a small confused child that I just felt like running to you, putting my arms around you and fending off the world.
The way I felt so protective of you.
The way I still do.
The way one morning you’d been so excited because your treatment last night had seemed to work.
You looked like a child on Christmas morning. It was so cute to look at.
I’m worried one day I’ll be facing an empty canvas,
with no memories left of you.
In all of three weeks, I’ve seen you smile,
but I’ve never heard you laugh.
There’s always this sadness in your eyes, and it makes me want to just hug you and make all the pain go away.
I think…I’m in love with you.
