I sat among friends and smiled when they took your name and placed it carefully beside mine.
I laughed, had another drink, looked away, hiding in myself holding dearly the part of you beating in me.
As I negated every joke made at our expense, knowing how silly it all was. I realized, this – our ridiculously sweet love, our hearts filling and overflowing with a happiness so unreal, how I feared losing it all.
“you make me forget the unpleasantness of my life. so i will call this love. calling you my love is the only way that i can depend on you without feeling weak.”
“i dreamt of you sitting and singing on the blue couch of my childhood home. home that my parent’s respective loves burnt long ago. you remind me of hope now.”
“i hold your name more dearly than your hand, because your hands are so human that i can’t seem to love them the way i love you. i stop myself from telling you how my own humanness makes me hate myself. have you heard of the heart that changes it’s mind too often that abandons as easily as it takes up new obsession, that makes us miserable even when we should be happy, even when we have all we want. i have that. you have that. that’s what i hate. that’s what i fear. i stop myself from telling you how often i wonder that even this love for you might be a grand way of looking at the easy way out.”
Unlike your descriptions, the green doesn’t wait for the sun. It doesn’t know what waiting is, what the word ‘sun’ is, it doesn’t even know that you are the its spokesperson.
I am not coming at your throat dear, it’s just that I feel, as time passes that you see me more as that green than your woman.
You cut my sentences and give me used bottles of perfumes, of love that I must wear. The only thing you tell me about your day is how women dote on you and place you first in the list of men to seduce.
I remember I once said, “please don’t tell me, i don’t want to know” and you glared back, lectured me on openness and honesty and strength of love.
“i don’t want to know” I said it only once, because my I was afraid to say it ever again. And in my unreasonable fear, I understood that in this life of pretend, I had also begun to see you as another sun, even when you are not.
So, I am not coming at your throat dear. I am try to free myself from your hold, from your twisted idea of love, that is messing with my mind now. I am someone without you as well, and I don’t want to be convinced that I am not.
shadows of evening are still in my room the morning rays, the flickering light bulb, your laughter, they don’t do much.
cause this life of mirrored sunshines and smiles makes me feel nothing. there is something wrong with my heart which you might have known all along.
i toss another piece of me into the ocean. it is one other piece of me that you will never see, will never have again. you hold my hand and tell me what i have thrown away was too difficult to find in this world, that it was your most favorite thing about me.
i want to cry and apologize to you but i sit there feeling relieved now that I have one less thing to lose. there is something wrong with me to not want your kindness and your love. it is not your fault dear.
what is the use of loving you if you won’t speak less and be less for the sake of my ego, if you don’t have the proportions or face to brag about, if you won’t sleep with me, if you have “anxiety attacks” just when i am having fun (it is embarrassing, grow up) if my mom won’t like you, if you can’t give me the kids that i want, if a career, a dream is still on your mind, if you still want friends when you already have me, if you want to write the stupid poems that make me look bad, if you won’t consider me your god, if you continue to live for yourself.
so dear, work hard. work hard or you will become useless to me. there is only so much that i can tolerate for this love of yours.
Let’s move closer into each other’s pores, move into each others mind, where we are bound to lose our way. Let’s blame each other when we miss the chaos of our own mind.
Don’t ask me how to return to normal. Normal never existed for us. Our life together has no place for normalcy. How to put a knife on an already bleeding wound, and smile when the pain seeps into and cries out my heart- I learnt that from you. Like I learnt to confuse anger and possessiveness with passion. Like I learnt to bear your frequent silence and occasional disappearance.
Let’s move closer into each other’s absence, carve a space for our needs in each other’s heart. It is not love, I know. But dear, we both are not good enough for this thing called love anyway.
Once you were my love,
but now and forever
you will be the person
whom I could never make smile.
Now and forever
I will cry over you,
run away from you,
promise myself to forget you
just to sit up nights
trying to recreate a part of you
that doesn’t hurt me,
that loves me back.
I will melt my bed and my sleep
under the flame of your smile.
The posters of superheroes,
of dear but forgotten stars,
they turn grey and burn green,
like my heart does.
My hands will paint your words
on these walls.
So I will never be lonely.
So I will never smile.
Everything you do, everything I say is suspended in the layers of admiration and disbelief. What I feel lies somewhere between “the love that is” and “the love that cannot be”. This place, where my uncertain feelings live, here you will find my many graves and here I will die again. Not because your love can’t save me, but because I doubt every heart that holds me too dear, I want to run away from this love that is ready to die with me.
When you see me walk towards my grief, towards my past, with my head sinking down, with my hands full of my own pieces, stop me dear. Come to me. Run to me. Call out to me even when you think I cannot hear. Hold me back even when you think I cannot be stopped. Promise me that you will try.
I tell myself stories about why I threw away all that I had, or why everything was taken away from me. How I was too weak, will always be too weak to carry the weight of the gifts that I had. Or how I was never quite convinced that I had something to be proud of. How I was always trying to gauge how much deep my feelings ran for everything that I could only sort-of-love. I can list all similar attempts where I sought a better quantitative understanding of my specialness and used these unreliable results to decide how and when to give up. But if I had to give one consolidated story of why I was never a failure at anything, why I never succeeded, why I had nothing to show for the years I lived or for the talents that people remember me for. If I had to be concise and true I would say I never made those decisions, I was never aware of how I felt about all the things that bother me now. I drifted away from what I was, from what I treasured, the way dear friends lose touch, lose each others name, lose a happiness they could have had. Only to be reminded of this loss when it no longer matters.