It was back in 2016 when I first met him. The moment I noticed him, I just knew that I could only share my heart with him and have no one else inside my chest.
I never ran out of memories to treasure. Never lost hope or felt guilty about my silly sins, because the lease he would do was to hold my hand and take away my pain. He never let me run out of myself.
He took the chaos that was there inside me and told me: “Everything is a visitor. You just need to be a strict landlord to sweep away the evil ones from your life.” Ergo, he of all people I knew, made me beautifully chaotic.
It is 2017 now, and so much has changed. After his demise, I still love him like a poetess loves her muse, and I cannot let him go. People call me crazy. They say dead cannot talk. They say, I should get through him. But I know he comes to visit me some nights, and it is his presence that makes me sleep through these nights. And then they say, he must be visiting to tell me I should move on. But he wouldn’t ask that, I suppose? He made me promise to love him, and only him.
He is a visitor, too, I suppose. I wish he just stayed a little longer.
I just cannot find the right words to describe the happiness I feel even at the idea of having him around or repeating the letters of his name.
I may believe a little less in myself now, and rewind his memories again and again, but hope is one thing that I cannot let go.
Until I find it in my heart to let go of him, I will keep his proposal and my promise.