Embracing Your Lies

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I should have been wise.

Should’ve heard my heart’s cries.

As my body slowly dies.

For the love I once saw in your eyes.

 

Oh look, how the time flies.

Shattering your guise.

And I fall now, from the mirage of highs.

I think I pay a prize.

 

For wanting to reach the skies.

But I never thought of the clouds’ size.

Never knew they were allies

With your lies.

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Sparkling Darkness

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“Are you afraid of the dark?”

“Yes”

“Why?”

“It’s all blank.”

“But does a blank page scare you then?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s white”

“And black scares you?”

“It’s not seeing anything that scares me the most.”

“But you can’t see anything on a perfectly white paper too”

“It’s different.”

“Tell me how.”

“White can take in colours, black, takes up the white. It’s consuming, it hides beauty. Like an eclipse.
White resembles peace whereas black resembles death.”

“But black is your favourite colour.”

“Because I couldn’t have possibly known how beautiful the sunlight can be. How, it’s so breath taking to finally see a full moon in all it’s glory. All the stars we so rarely ever see, would be of no use if there was no darkness.”

“But nights are not the only phenomenon one associates darkness with.”

“I associate secrets, love and demons with darkness. I am only tormented by my demons at night or when I am in a dark room or when I was drowned in the pool or when I was molested by my first boyfriend.

My deepest secrets only come out on my skin as cuts when it’s dark. I can’t see how deep they are how they are covered with blood patches at every inch’s gap.

Love is what I think of and wail at night, when I am in my hostel and the lights go out due to some electric failure. I wail at the thoughts of my incapability of reserving some love for me and showering it on the wrong people all along.”

“It’s nice that you can so expressively give words to your demons.”

“Nothing’s nice about this. I’ve mentally taken a note of possibly opening up to the wrong person again.”

“But, only this time, it’s not the wrong person.”

“That’s something I’ve heard on loop over the years.”

“But you are just sixteen.”

“The darkness of living doesn’t ask your age before engulfing you, it just does.”

 

 

 

20 Days

Everyone is sound asleep. Silently breathing. The night lamps alight in distance, somewhere round the corner. I can see the pillar casting a shadow. The watchman is patrolling.

That’s how a normal person would describe a typical night at 3 am.

But it’s not so easy for us. We lay here. I lay here wide awake and you are sleeping beside me. It’s so easy for you to fall asleep. I wish it were so easy for me too. I sit here, on our bed, flipping the side lamp switch. But I am not here, I don’t know where I am. Its someplace distant. Somewhere where my past is, the beautiful yet painful past. Or am I dreaming about our future? Where you and I could go back to being us. But it doesn’t matter if I am stuck in a reverse or a forward, I’ll be content living in either one of them, rather than the present. The present is not what the past was made of, of what promises we made in the past. Its hollow, suffocating, confining and it keeps getting worse. It’s not getting better. The last twenty days tell me where we are and how we can’t walk together anymore.

It’s been twenty days since we last talked to each other, well, pretended that we were talking to each other. Maybe, no words can damage us more than the silences already have. I can’t reminiscence what we talked about, which doesn’t happen to me. I remember every word you ever spoke, every heartbeat that my hands felt while I blissfully slept on your chest.

Nineteen days since we had dinner together. We like to pretend that you are busy at work and come home after you’ve ate and I, fulfill my end by still waiting at dinner table with at least one of your favorite dishes. You walk past the table and call me to bed. Tears well up easy and subside just as easily. We are whiling away something so pure with something so made up.

Eighteen days since I’ve cried. Poured my heart out in front of you. And you just sat there, asking me to tell you what the fuck was wrong with me. How can I tell you something that I don’t know the answer to? How can I assure you on something I’ve been unsure of since what seems like eternity. It doesn’t matter if you keep asking me, if you keep offering me your handkerchief, my heart doesn’t give me my answers.

Seventeen days since I smiled. I can’t find anything to smile at these days. Not the stupid reality shows, not the kids who giggle outside our house. Nothing is amusing, nothing gives me happiness. How can it, my happiness is you. And you are gone, you are so distant, I can’t reach out to you.

Sixteen days since we last held hands. It was raining that day and our car had broken down in the middle of the road. You walked ahead of me, my hands knotted in yours, resilient than ever. Like we had promised we would, wherever either one of us would go, the other would follow. Follow me back to that place darling, that moment is still ours, we just need to recapture it.

Fifteen days since we had a row. I don’t mind fighting with you. It just calms me down. It is settling to know that there’s still something we have left which was worth fighting for. Let’s fight for us honey, let’s not give up. Maybe we are still worth fighting for. Don’t abandon us just yet.

Fourteen days since I saw you laugh. I can’t let go of those 10 seconds, it’s my something beautiful. Something I am holding on tight to. You put half my demons to rest that day and I could finally sleep. The other half, woke me up after 4 hours. But I don’t mind, I got to breathe beside you, to sleep beside you.

Thirteen days since I got to know that we were having a baby. I should’ve been happy, it’s something you gave me, something I can keep for life. But I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to share something so pure with something like us. Something destroyed and hopeless like us.

Twelve days since I’ve slept. I wander the halls, reliving all the moments we shared since we got married. How you picked me up in your arms and i smiled the brightest, the two beautiful years of love this house saw. It’s not a home anymore, it’s a house. Our love made it our home. Neither lasted as long as it should have. It’s just bricks and mud now.

Eleven days since I’ve cut myself. It liberates me, unshackles me from my misery. It pulls me out of the gloom that has surrounded me. If I drain my pain through my wrists, will you love me again? Just like you promised you would. Hold my hand once again honey, I swear the scars will heal.

Ten days since your friends came over and we feigned love. The love that’s been long lost. I yearn that love. Don’t you? Let’s pretend if we have to, let’s be the happy couple that we pretended to be that night. Let’s find a few seconds of calm in these days of chaos.

Nine days since our anniversary. You bought a ring for me. A sparkling solitaire. You got down on one knee and proposed to me. The dream was beautiful, contrasting to our harsh reality. The dreams are comforting, I fall asleep balled up on the couch, unlike our last anniversary. There were roses then, it’s just a wide field of thorns now.

Eight days since you made love to me. I wouldn’t call it making love. It was just sex. The passion, the warmth, the fierceness no longer defined it. It was just two bodies entwined, sans the barriers of clothes. Don’t you see the scars, not even now? Maybe they are hiding, hiding from the one who gave them to me.

Seven days since you woke up beside me. Happiest day so far. You wished me good morning with a kiss, a fervourless, customary kiss and made tea for me. I wish you’d sit beside me and nuzzle my neck like you used to. I wish you’d come back, come back to me.

Six days since I told you about our baby. You hugged me so tight I almost stopped breathing with happiness. You smile like a thousand sun rays just dawned on my face. Are we fixed? Are we back to being us? I must be hallucinating.

Five days since you kissed me goodbye. It feels like you are not a delusion anymore, it really is you. It really is us. This might be short-lived but I’ll still cherish every second of it and hope that the next isn’t the last one.

Four days since you talked to our baby. It feels so nice to feel your hands on me again. It’s satiating. It’s substantial. It’s filling.

Three days since you slipped away. You are distant and aloof again. Don’t do that to me, don’t let us fall prey to the silences again. Talk to me, I am here and so is our baby, hold on to us.

Two days since I have taken my meds. It’s for our baby, I should’ve taken. But if there’s  no us, no ours, it’s all in my dreams, in my nightmares. It’s all that is left now, I can only envision what was reality once.

A day since I’ve made peace with the lose broken strings our relationship is hanging from. It’s so surreal, how did we get here? I still can’t help asking myself.

And here I am, on the 21st night of our dead, fake reality. Insomnia still overpowering me, I leave this letter by your bedside, I leave your bedside. We don’t belong on each other sides anymore, we don’t define each other anymore.So, dear husband, I am letting go my insecurities that held me down for so long, I am letting go of the lies I had led myself to believe in. I am setting you free, I am leaving the baggage behind.