Conversations With The Heart Part 2 (Seeing You Again)

I saw you again
My heart fluttered again
The turmoil inward ended today
I could die and respawn on this heavenly day
It was the little things you did
From gasping with utter shock
The realisation that it was me before you
To the frizziness of your hair
It did nothing to dull perfection; You.
Looked a masterpiece, looked a meal
Looked a dime piece, looked a Princess’ choice Teal
The icing on the cake was when we hugged
A hug so Pentecostal yet it felt like I touched heaven
I was this close to you like a tilaka is to the forehead of an Indian woman
Never have I been so alive
Even now, my words fail me
Oh, the irony!
Clarity seems to only always appear when I see you
Like a Dog heeding every command of its whisperer
A distasteful prank
Ça ne me dérange pas!
I saw you again
My heart fluttered again
The turmoil inward ended today
I could die and respawn on this heavenly day
It was what it did to me
A flurry of emotions best describes what transpired
One moment I felt invincible
‘Bring on the world’, a recurring thought, at your beholding
Instantly in another, bone-chilling fear
At how easily I succumbed to your disarming smile
Years-work of defences, pulverised, atomized, gone without a trace
Like Bellion said “Your heart’s a vine that I’ve bled trying to climb”
Truthfully, I would have moved mountains if only you asked
And that scared the bejeezus out of me
I saw you again
My heart fluttered again
The turmoil inward ended today
I could die and respawn on this heavenly day
You know the humorous clincher, I don’t mind reliving this moment
The colour in my cheeks then could recreate Van Gogh’s Starry Night
My very own Starry Night
My inspiration for such a timeless piece; You
My only hope in the offing is the possible transcendence of this burgeoning friendship into a love story
One so worthy it will live on eternally in the journals of love
Se cuide, meu amor
I Saw you again
My heart fluttered again
The turmoil inward ended today
I could die and respawn on this heavenly day
Grey
Curator of moments, collector of whispers