Letters to Anita : Letter 2

Dear Anita,

I still stare at the river. My friend tells me that it will take time but it will help. No. It does not. My mind has become hollow now. The hollow emptiness cocoons me from the rest of the universe. The sounds of silence are deafening. And, when sprays of rain open up little boxes of memories, streams of tears make lines on my cheeks. But no one can see them. They are hidden by rain. But the drops of water when reaches my lips, they are still salty.

You are like the old tune in radio which makes one nostalgic. Sometimes I wish you were a song, so that I could learn it by heart and hum it all day. That old tune you hummed when we were together. At the lap of a tree and on a carpet of grass; with my head on your lap, you lullabied your love to me. Last night I went to the same place. Now the tree seems like a grotesque monster ready to devour me with dark boughs. And the blades of grasses tear my thoughts into million pieces.

I was drunk that day. I was so drunk that I could count minutes between the seconds. When I stared at my watch it was ironically midnight. And a balmy zephyr was caressing me. As if your fingers were running through the contours of my face.  Then I realized how drunk I was in your love. The night was dark and I stood alone at the end of a street. It had no lights and it ran into darkness. I couldn’t see the other end at all.

I still cannot see it.

Yours Always.

P.S. – Wrapped a gift for you last time. Hope you liked it.