We are not in a relationship,
We are not just friends.
We listen to each other,
Each day this bond gets mend.
I like him a lot,
Don’t know if he does too.
The hours we talk,
are not just a few.
We tease one another,
We even get mad.
But the consequences of these sweet fights,
Are not at all sad.
“Permissions? No you won’t get one”,
Are the words we speak.
We don’t deny the devoir,
But we try to seek.
Disagreement of the consent,
Is a common thing we face.
But since we care for each other,
It becomes a closed case.
Emotionally blackmailing him,
Is all my part.
And doing what I want him to do,
Is his kind of special art.
Stories are the best part,
Of our elated conversations.
Be it real, assumed
Or just a mere delusion.
Afterall,
It was a bus journey with a stranger
From where it all dawned.
I wish a journey forever with him,
Enchanted with the most magical wand.