You held me as I broke again and again. Your warm chest tried to hold me, to keep me alive. I couldn’t cry anymore I felt indebted to you I loved you.
You left me again in the crowd that you promised to protect me from. I called you, your number and you name- becoming useless to me with each passing day. I cried because I felt cheated I loved you.
As my heart filled again, as it emptied itself out you stayed in front of my eyes in flesh or in glowing illusions, telling me, nothing is wrong with me. So I slept peacefully because you made me forget my incompleteness I loved you.
You told me love is supposed to be a pain anyway. That this smile of mine that shined in spite of your mistakes, in spite of your cruelty on my weary hopeful heart was the only thing that made you believe in my love. And again I smiled back so that you continue to believe me because I loved you.
There were moments, glorious ones, when you were the most the beautiful human, when you cried for me, when you cried for the world, when you tried to do something right. I wanted to stand beside you so that I could protect you somehow because I loved you more for it.
But now I must face the world and myself alone, without having to become something right in your eyes. Now I don’t have to round up my every feeling to a variant of love. Now I can care for you, hate you and see it as care and hate and a frustration without an end. Now I can see you as the miracle and as the failure that you are. Now I can be a failure myself.
I am not good at loving in the past. I can only be honest. Now I cannot look back at you and call you my heart. You were so much to me that I badly wanted to be something that you want. I kept on sleeping to keep your dream intact and calling this love, when it clearly was not. Even though it was probably something better than that.
His face lit up with the death of every colorful explosion in the sky. He hates this sky on other days (among other things). Today he loves it, this darkness, this crowd, even me. (Maybe not me, but it doesn’t mean anything to me now. But in moments like this I am reminded of the “me” who would have wanted his love or at least be part of the world that can be loved. The ‘past me’ shakes off my hand and stands there looking at him as if he is her sky, but only finds the signs of deaths that have nothing spectacular about them. I stand there looking at my sadness, his sadness breathing the air and living some sort of life for once.) He stands there looking at the sky through my silence, through my awe, awe at his simple happiness. (How long has it been since he has loved anything with his breaking heart.) He stands there looking at the sky even when curtain of stars resurface, even when the screams of children dissolve. He stands there abandoned by the world and yet happy. (I stand there abandoned by him, by myself and yet happy)
i cried again today – a silent sob hidden behind the highest volume of television. yesterday i found my grief for a second in the fading of another song. it lasted for a second- my glace, my hopeless glance at your retreating figure and my fruitless love left in its wake. a shallow love clenching my heart.
You walk in with a cake of rust, two hours late. You kiss me , wait for me to smile, to say thanks, to make another offering of myself at your shrine.
You tell me of love, the only love that you cannot get out of your heart. This love that suffocates you these days more than before. How my face asks for too much, even when my voice doesn’t.
I cross out and mess up the frosting trying to hide the wrong name. These days I don’t correct you, or remind you of who I am, and so you forget me just as I thought you would, just as you promised you wouldn’t.
My half hidden sighs tell me that I am just an appointment, things that have to be done, feel good pill of a the mean god that you are. The clearer I see this the more I want to speak against you, to hold you closer with my rage.
I want to speak of all the facts I have on you- the bitter candies from the assembly line that my minds works overtime overnight, to show you the moments you hated yourself most again and again and again. I am weak like that. I am mean like that. And now I don’t want to be better. I wasn’t like this always but now this all I can be.
I don’t remember or expect a beautiful love, now neither should you.
For a change I made breakfast for one and didn’t cry over it. I didn’t turn back as he packed his favorite parts of this heavy life with me. He didn’t ask me about the things I have hidden away. I felt a bitter thankfulness that my memories are mine to keep, that my beautiful moments have been erased from his heart, that I am not a part of his greed and schemes anymore, that nothing in me can be ruined by him after this.
I simply stared at the milk that won’t boil as he dragged away in his small heart the window frames, the doors to my cold world, the warm flame of my blue stove, the table mats on which we spilled our hearts by mistake, the songs that I will never be able to sing again, the doorbell, the welcome mat, our plants that never grew more than a millimeter in spite of the four years of sunlight and rain. Mistakes. We created so much with love, only to call them mistakes.
I heard the door close behind me, my so called “heart” moving away without me and all I could do was hope or pity myself. All I could do was hate him so that I can finally give up.
I wonder ‘me being right’ at what point of time it became synonymous to finding out that his heart is empty- my name washed out by the waves of the other girl. The girl whom he swore is not his type. “I was right”, I said as my hand trembled with anger and then fear as I waited for the reply, for the apology, a missed call from those whom I should not forgive. But the way my heart is breaking if only they would tell me that they still love me I could have held them close to my chest and thought of them as my family, as the blood that I couldn’t part with. I would have learnt to pretend that I was born with a dagger on my back.
I was right, I understood as I saw few more pictures not meant for my eyes. (these days there are so many things that are not meant for my eyes), as I try to digest the unfamiliar rage in his eyes, as he breaks and breaks and breaks every moment we had When I ask him “if should I stay around? if he’d change his mind?” he tells me he doesn’t know his heart and walks out into the night.
When I switch on the TV I almost expect to find my name in red, my body in red laying on the carpet that he loved but had to ruin for a good cause, for a greater love. This me, my death must be side effect of his love. His love is all that matters now. His love is not our love. Our love is an obstacle to the happiness he can almost reach.
She calls me up again to tell me how to gracefully give up. I hear him behind her, I feel his despair in her voice. (Must be true love.) I hear him hum a song in the background, a song that I have never heard. I hear the ruffle of his clothes that he moved from our life to her home one betrayal at a time. I hear what I don’t want to hear, what I always knew- they don’t want my forgiveness even if I gave it for free, I must mend my life by myself. No past love will do it for me.
Was it 5 years ago, or 6 that we all sat together looking at the bright beginning of another series of setbacks that we were becoming. The coldness of the wood, the ruffle of papers, the moment before we learned to truly hate ourselves.
I miss that.
As we stood waiting in line for something to take away everything we were just beginning to see, I remember thinking, “I wish I could spend my youth here. In this moment, with these people. I am nothing to them, they are nothing to me. But we are good for each other. This can never be made again.” At that moment I knew they will make my heart ache for a long time.
In the years that followed I saw them, the people who carried the faces of the ones I liked enough not to love. “What’s wrong?” I wanted to ask them but all I could do was smile and let my smile tell them “I will see you for what you were. At least that I can do for you. The beauty of your innocence and hope I will remember it forever.”
From the corner of my eye I see you smile, I see it fade. I see you fade.
From the corner of my eye falls a tear, as I run into my mistakes, run into my cruel words, as I try to find you, in this place where you once lead me by my hand.
In every space, in every memory, in every version of our past where you promised you would always stay even if we part. You look a bit more tired. I look a bit more impatient. This is not the reality I lived. This is not the love I had.
Tell me, even if it changes nothing, tell me that I once had your heart, that there are moments you want to return to even when you don’t want me back.