2 am rant.

I know it shouldn't matter. And it doesn't. I'm in love with a wonderful, talented, amazing young man. But its the differences in cliches that bring us together. I just want to look through the pockets of your skin and ask Who are you? What do you believe in? I want to not be lonely on rainy nights, I want you to not be stubborn, I want to not feel so defeated every time I think I can't complete a simple task. I want to sing to you, my love. The hollows of her eyes knock on my window pane and the kittens run for cover. The veins pop out but the stomach never goes in. Cigarette is coolness if smoked properly. Seem ponderous, caring about un-careful things. I want to not feel this torn between what? and why? and why not? I think about you in moonlit nights and the stars all seem to weep. The water is stale from sitting on a green table for too long. Little cobwebs decorate ignored corners of the room. Bedsheets have been washed, clothes picked off of the floor, surfaces anti-bacteriarised. And you still never came. The street light turns on and off at its own will. The rain won't stop, love, God is crying too much, He's so sad. Associating God with emotion is probably blasphemous on this early early Jumat-ul-Wida morning, but it makes me relate to Him more. Or Him to me, whichever comes first.

You are wrong for all the right reasons. And right for all the wrong.