Valentine’s Series: Day Five: Faded


Boo, I’ve tried explaining a million times that this is one of those months. Work gets crazy. A million clients come in and they all want their work delivered first. I’d like to surprise you with some Danish cookies some time, and perhaps Lindt, but you know I gotta put in my time for that.

That Saturday, when the Lantern Meet Recital was set to happen, I promise you if the boss had given me that work while he was in, it might have been a homicide. Brother man calls at 5pm, tells me to run to the office and send a batch of files to a client in Sweden. Know how big they were? 10GB. As if that was not enough, the network decided to play ping pong. I left office at 11pm that Saturday. All the while, I was thinking of you in between jeers at the boss.

You know how much I love poetry.You think I wasn’t feeling bad that I missed spending that evening with you? Love, “you should know me – I would die before I hurt you”. 

Waitresses? Come on Pearl, you’re just being jealous. 🙂  I mean, Gloria was just being nice that time we were at Javas. You do expect service with a smile don’t you?

I’m trying so hard to make time. The job is killing me. I might need to look for another. The least I’d expect from you though is to understand that this is just a season, love. That it won’t, cannot always be like this. I want to see you, after work, before work, during work – maybe I should send in my CV to your HR.

When I’m on a Bajaj, all I’m thinking is “Boda Boda, hurry up hurry up, I need my baibe”. Yet you know February and it’s jam. Kids are back to school, the roads are narrow, it’s so hard to get to you in time. But I want to. To get to you in time. To stare into your brown eyes and let you know I love you, that I trust you, that when I’m not with you, I miss you.

Where is the love? Baby, put your “love glasses” on. I love you. Nothing’s faded.  We’re just getting to the part of our lives where life wants to bawss us. But it won’t. Love never fails. We have that Pearl, don’t we?

Don’t be mad. I’ll do better next time.

Your Poet,


Ded: Nothing – Brandy


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