When I lost the butterflies in my stomach,
And they slipped onto flowers of fragrant apologies for every cricket match you missed,
I fell in love with you.

When metro rails rattled out of platforms and we stayed for an endless paani puri competition,
I fell in love with you.

When roads had given in to the uncompromising simplicity of leading nowhere, and Google maps could not settle us at its pin point,
I fell in love with you. 

I fell in love with you when knowing you, was not a task.
When thinking about you did not come with a tickle on the rib,
When holding your hand, tracing the scar on your left shoulder and placing my head on your chest,
Did not make me want for more.

I fell in love with you when holding on to you was not necessary,
When telling and retelling my love for you was not a ritual,
When letting go was hard, sorry, unthinkable,

I fell in love with you when I was so strong that I could let you go had you asked for it,
I fell in love with you when I was tireless enough to backpack over hills, had you asked for it,
I fell in love with you when I was happy enough to see the two of us together, had you asked for it,
I fell in love with you when I was prepared to share every part of me with you,
Every bit of my soul,
Every crust of my anger,
Every inch of my waist,
Every tinge of my pain,
Every beat of my heart,
Every piece of my pizza,
Every word of my poem,
Every ink blot on my paper,
Every tear on my pillow,

I fell in love with you when we stopped being one,
And were two grey, sketched out bodies in the white, unblemished world.

I fell in love when I was me,
You were you,
And we were two,
Bare bodies and bare souls,
not trying to slip into one another;

Yet, we were.