Soulmates from 1997.

He looks at me intensely like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
I turn to him with my lips curled upwards, I smile knowingly.
He’s certain it is for him.
I let him believe it.

It is what it is.

No, this is not another sad piece. And this certainly is not about making you an antagonist of my life. You are far from that. You were the love of my life, once upon a time. Let’s leave it that. 

Let’s play pretend, Mother.

But the real question here is- will we ever say it out loud? This game of play pretend. Will we ever break-free from this routine? Or will I continue to play this game with my daughter as well?

Look, just what you made me do

I don’t know if you’ll read this
And I hope you never do
But yes, you are an asshole
And I know you know that too

Love, Rosie

Loving you feels like the first rain of the monsoon, a cup of chai on a winter morning, that one song of nostalgia on a long drive, a recurring deja vu of us dancing in circles, in an ending loop of love and longing.

when you were everything.

“I love you, too,” I whisper back with my lips pressed to his. He tastes like cheese and pepperoni and the next sixty years of my life. His embrace is gentle and his hair dampened by the rains.