When we met.
I was 23, he was 26.
now,
I am still 23, he is 85.
He aged,
I did not.
I resent him for rejecting the gift.
I hate him for he aged.
Not a single thought of
Hate, resentment, envy
Has enter his mind
For the fact
I do not age.
I wanted to give him the gift.
Many times,
Numerous times i offered,
He declined,
I offered him again when he was 32,
Six years of love,
And i knew i wanted,
I needed an eternity of that,
He refused,
I was angry,
I was wrathful,
I wanted to hurt him,
To force him.
I hit him,
And the shame i felt,
Such shame,
Such guilt,
He bled,
I wanted to taste,
But i fled,
I knew,
He would never hate me,
But he would be scared of me.
For half a decade,
I was away from him,
And he did not call,
I wanted him too,
I needed him too.
I could not find the courage
In myself to see him,
To confront him.
To apologize,
To say and I love you.
He called,
First time in 5 years,
His voice, it was rough
And hoarse voice,
But it was his,
It was like I finally breathed again.
And he said to me he was dying,
And then in minutes,
I crossed borders,
And I was in front of him.
And I am ashamed of what,
My first thought was,
At last he will accept the gift,
Before i could put a word together,
He hugged me,
And it was as if in my multiple centurion
Of undead life,
I was finally embraced in the sun again.
He whispered in my ear,
"I just wanted to see you
One last time"
He knew i would offer,
He rejected it before.
I cried and cried,
My tears of blood,
Spoilt his shirt,
I wanted him to spend
An eternity with me,
I wanted to force him to accept,
But I knew,
I by miracle might survive an existence without him.
But in his ire I would not survive a second.
Cancer, it's a plague,
It was tremendous,
And capricious watching him,
Change and loss himself in disease..
But he survived,
He did not let the night have him,
He beat it,
And he beat once more
when it came back,
People thought he was rich and lustful,
By the age he reached 40,
He was more honorable than most
More virtuous than any i had ever met,
At the age of 70,
He started to forget,
He listened less,
He spoke in riddles,
He once tried to kill himself,
He was smart,
a scholar that would rival the likes of da vinci,
Yet the travesty of this curse like disease
the more you know the faster you lose it
He begged for me to leave him,
He said he did not want me to find his corpse,
He said that sometimes
he would think that he would agree the gift,
But he knew the curse of the blood,
It stops you,
From death and decay,
Everything remains the same,
The mind remains the same,
And he did not wish for me to be his eternal caretaker,
By the next day he forgot that,
I did not,
I could not,
I saw not a single thing wrong with being his eternal caregiver,
I know that was wrong,
But one night I gathered the courage,
I would force the gift on him,
In the night when he slept,
And he called me,
"Meri jaan"
He stopped calling me that
After our first separation,
He cooked and played the piano,
It was as if the last past decades did not happen,
And he looked at me,
And said that he loved me,
And that day might have been of the best days of my life,
His body aged and wrinkled,
But his soul had only grown,
More beautiful,
More…
And the next week,
He stopped speaking in words,
And by the age of 85,
One day,
He passed away,
Drawing me,
He fell with his last breath, smiling,
I did not let him fall,
I buried him in my coffin,
And buried myself with him.