I’ve read the letters you sent her

and those she sent you

i understood then, how your love had turned blue.

you kept it to yourself

you kept it from me

your eyes, they did not see me.

they did not gleam, 

the way they did 

when you leaned on her shoulder

on that 2007 morning in October.

all of those left;

underappreciated,

overrated,

over-reacted.

your love, sadly it then became frozen

deep blue, and i couldn’t paint it golden. 

you were fine, but it was not true

i’ve never seen a liar so terrible as you.

how your heart broke, i could not mend it,

you buried it deep, for me to understand it.

yet you walked head high, 

your feelings veiled,

you probably had enough

as the moments staled.

“she gave you scars.”

***

she, the one who was given hopes

one who had cared

one who had pronounced love.

it was all in a menacing snippets,

what you have shared together, a little secret.

why all the effort, i ponder

if it all ended in shambles, a lost wonder.

beauty and words, she hit the points;

— hold up; was it a hit, or a miss?

this paranoid heart whispered if you have ever shared a kiss.

no matter, silly mind, we’ve got to move along.

for i kept my doubts for 3 summers long.

“you gave her scars.”

***

there she goes, of ladylike grace.

something that this part of me will never embrace.

did she love you, or did she simply not?

her story is something you rarely brought.

she had her dreams of you, you in her dreams,

both running free around the ferris wheel

with frappe tops in cream.

she took photos of you and you of her,

calm down now, boy, weren’t you such a player?

“nobody was hurt in this scene.”

***

who the fuck?!

my brain yelled.

when i saw you with a woman

my brain, swelled.

but strangely, i took it well.

short and simple, i didn’t know who she was.

how insignificant, nothing was lost.

“she was your game changer.”

***

are you guys together?

damn it, you tend to turn me into an investigator.

rumours turn to whispers of stories untrue,

ended up knowing she liked your friend, not you.

“it was a fucking mirage.”

***

your hands in mine, intertwined

breathless in warmth, enveloped in time

while they would have loved you, 

wanted you

missed you

yet these moments, would they had had it, too?

it felt exclusive,

inclusive.

it was more than just

“good night—sleep tight—sweet dreams”

and a round of “take care, because i care”

this was ultimate secrecy, 

wrapped in an invisible pinky swear.

i would have been the devil

their disruption

the one who got in their way.

undeniably persistent, i extended my stay.

you never made me yours, and i never called you mine,

in childish informality, no; but yes, in matured time.

we joked about them all, the memories turned into stories.

stories you said you were glad of, because it ended to find me. 

nevertheless, jealous was what i felt, as they all were brutally true.

why is it only me? i wonder,

if you have ever felt it, too?

▪ to you.
▪ detox
▪ trophy
▪ lost not found
▪ secrets
▪ a happy birth-day
▪ the love of my life
▪ dear child
▪ to the person whom i call husband
▪ not like them.