Bifurication.

You pop up in my contemplation like a fluky comment notification at 3 A.M on a Tuesday night and let me confess, I still take it with a pinch of salt because I hold myself guilty of crimes that nobody would dare even charge me with. It’s borderline amusing how I have almost entirely forsaken all hope of retracing my way to you while you’re still out there, being someone else’s treat. Swallow me, when I state this, it might have been like crumbled fragments (in heavy syrup, of course) but I attempted to deliver to you the best of me. Let us arraign the fading away of desire between us upon defenseless entities such as divine intervention but let us not, for the love of God, consign to oblivion the certitude that we were eternally more than just magic. My folk never legitimately called me pensive but as I sit staring at the white screen of this laptop on a Monday night, I feel like it is another gremlin that I may wear upon my chest like a medal. We have come a long way, Major. If I compare this night with one that we saw 9 years ago, there would be little homogeneity between the two besides, of course, the stinging crepuscule and the audacious apprehension of a guilty conviction. I concede that I do not possess the courage to ponder upon a supplementary scenario in this regard. You never notified me about your sojourns to the Blue Mosque in Istanbul or the wet rail tracks in downtown Buffalo but that’s okay since I didn’t let you in on how I conducted that extempore cross-examination upon the Investigating Officer in a murder case at the District and Sessions courts, Lahore either. Tit for tat, or is it not? You’ve been flaunting maroon and gold and peach and blue to weddings, et al but the order of the day has turned in these fair parts making me stick with black as My Color long before I embraced it for a uniform. If it ever suits your fancy, kindly squeeze a few moments out of your glossy nights and reckon. Please grill the loneliness of your evenings about someone who was devoted to your name, who was in awe of your persona. Please reminisce as who was he, once so dear to you? The one who lived in your name. I do not complain of bleakness, for it is the consequence of loyalty but were my sins really so dark that I was stripped of my March 18 rights? I did not sorrow, nor complained. I lay still on the day of pain for my style of reverence beats that of the layman. All else is, as you once said; Quid pro quo.