When I be the listener.

(2 a.m. scribbles. 1.0)  

You are like an acoustic cover of my favourite ninety’s song. Favourite, yet incomplete, where yodels are lost somewhere in the high reverberations, lyrics in the heavy bass, and well, emotions in the technicalities. And then, you’re like its unplugged cover someone has just come up with. Plucking the best combination of six strings, creating the most pleasurable twang; vocals that complete the melodious harmony, echoes in my head; drumbeats, as rhythmic as my heartbeats; and the touch of the highest note, that whistles through the air and touches my soul. Too mild. Too beautiful. You’re not something I groove upon, but listen to, that reflects on my face when the moon shines. You are not something I shake my head upon, but something that makes me shiver down my spine.
It’s beautiful because it’s intangible, yet touches me, every minute. every hour, But sometimes, it scares me because you’re too beautiful and simple, and I don’t think I can go back to the complexities of the real world.

-Anip Mittal

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