You and me,
not a filmy love,
not loud like dhimes at biska jatra,
but quiet,
like birds settling on hills.
you’re the warmth of yomari,
pure, patient, and made with love,
and I am that diyo beside you,
small, yet burning only for your light.
And when you say have you reached?
It feels holier than thousand “I love yous”
And when I say
“don’t skip your meal”,
that’s my love folded in plain words.
You’re the first sip of Chiya on a foggy day,
Strong yet sweet, slightly addicting
And dangerous for my heart.
And if I am restless like bagmati,
You are the step stones of pashupati,
Steady yet grounding in your patience.
We may not hold hands in crowded streets,
but our shoulders brush,
and that’s my dear is enough electricity to light the whole valley.
Our love is like a red tika,
Pressed softly on a forehead,
A blessing,
A mark,
A symbol that says,
I CHOOSE YOU
You and Me
· · 1 min read
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