I miss the way he would plant the kisses on my shivering lips, on my moist eyes, on my flushed cheeks, on my clenched nose, on my forehead. That was the tradition after love-making. I miss the way he would hold me near, close and tight as if to say he would never let me go. I miss the way our bodies would lie entwined,cocooned waiting to evolve wings and fly away. I miss the tune his heartbeats would create, the poundings slowing down slowly from the rush. I miss being called someone's. But I don't miss him. Its okay that I let him go. I respected him enough to set him free. I cared enough to not make him miserable anymore. I don't miss him. I miss the feelings. I did not stop myself from falling in love again. Love is a beautiful feeling. It takes you to a wonderful place. It makes you feel at home. It need not have a name. Love is love. Unconditional. Unpremeditated. But relationships ruin it. The moment you start treating all of it as duties is the moment the magic spell is broken. I fear to risk it anymore. The art of non-possession is indeed a great thing and mastering it makes you strong enough. But sometimes, just sometimes, it's neither about freedom nor about independence, sometimes it's all about belonging to someone and someone belonging to you.
