Lonely Cries of Melancholic Heart

I picked up my phone several times and opened my emails. I was going to write a message to you, but I couldn’t find the words, paralyzed by the inability to send something so simple. I tried those three words—I miss you—and typed them out. Then I realized that I should listen to my head, not my heart; it has gotten me into trouble for too long. It is a message that will remain in the drafts, forever pending in the cyber world. I didn’t want to disturb you. I know how to handle these situations; the process works for me. I switch off the phone, shut down the computer, and push my thoughts to "tomorrow," I say to myself. Silence is better.

I came outside to breathe some fresh air and looked up at the sky, watching the moon slip between the clouds. Seeing this, my thoughts turned, and I wondered by chance if, just for a moment, wherever you are, you might be doing the same thing. I wrap my arms around myself against the chill of the night air. A smile passes through my lips, I exhale, and a tear slips down my cheek.

Now I feel relaxed, but the quiet brings a deeper truth to the surface. You know what... I want to fall in love again. Just this time, hopelessly; carelessly; foolishly. Love without any boundaries; love without any hope; love without any cause—just love.

The pressure of society and societal norms forced me to fall in love once. Yes, I fell in love once, just the way I wanted. I gave it all. I thought I had starved my soul long enough, hard enough, and here was the sink where I would go all in, watch it soothe my charred soul just like drizzly rain cools down the scorching mother earth. With divine hope, I watched her as I took seven rounds around the holy pyre, hand in hand, with dreams of a future together.

But rather than being soothed, I burnt. I charred in the very holy pyre that was meant to be the witness to our union. Each and every day became a hellish walk as I turned, burned, and cried. My soul wanted freedom as it was tossed side to side, and I silently witnessed my breath trying to leave my body, tired of endless troubles.

So I decided to free my soul one day. I just couldn't see it get punished for the sake of societal respect. I decided to let it out free through the wound on my wrist; right in front of my eyes, it flew out through the veins, through the dripping blood, as my body stayed silent through the pain—suffering all the shakes of life, one for all.

My heart didn't stop beating, though. It still beats. Even if I lay down fifty feet below mother earth as my body gets its deserved rest, my heart still beats in hope. It waits in the dream of a future where it remembers all, forgives all, and wants to fall in love again: hopelessly; foolishly; carelessly; in search of true salvation.

A beautiful heart, don’t you know that you have captured mine?