I still think about you.
I don’t want to, but the idle mind is not blessed with the luxury of choice.
I wonder if you’ll ever read this and see your name written all over it
(You would not be wrong).
Did you realise I bruised easily? You were so careful with your words;
“I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it,” you said in the end,
As if I would be angry, annoyed, or even disappointed.
No darling, the word should have been ‘upset’;
“I knew you would be crushed.”
You needn’t have worried about words hurting me, I’ve seen them all.
So I reassured you that it was fine, that I’d walk away;
After all, my legs are strong from our tip-toe kisses.
When I came to you after drunken mistakes, you asked me
Why I became so casual about the kinds of lips and bodies that pressed against me on Friday nights
When I once blushed from your caresses.
I tell you
It’s easier in this maze of bodies.
I knew about this, that’s why I left my soul at home for safekeeping.
It’s difficult to remember what it means to have a name, a personality,
To believe in this darkness that I am anything more than flesh and bones.
And in those moments, I can almost pretend that the strange body coiled around me
Belongs to you.
I finally understand now that this is our fate, the inevitable,
Even though the idealist within me, the one who still wants to believe in happily ever afters, wishes otherwise.
But there is no point in trying to prolong
A story that has come to an end, with sequels of foolish fantasies and delusional daydreams-
That was not the author’s intention.
No one keeps writing with a pen that has run out of ink-
I should know that best.
Maybe we both deserve better,
So I hope you find someone who makes you happier,
And I hope she makes you laugh, in a way
I don’t think I was ever able to.