Did you know?
I was warned, ‘never do that’.
They warned me, time and again.
Never fall in love,
this is gay community.
Here, people have options!
I didn’t listen because I was convinced.
It’s love and I know my idea of love.
I never considered love to be cheap.
It never was just an ‘attraction’ for me,
it always had a higher meaning,
it still has.
But I don’t know how to talk about it,
after the successive realization.
Realization of this wisdom, that
people do have options.
But I thought, no.
I know my love.
My love can’t do this.
But after that day,
those words which you said.
The strength which they had,
equivalent to splitting a body in half,
thumping like a hammer over nail’s head,
a saw reaching the depth of a wood.
What do you make out of this?
‘It was an initial attraction.’
I never felt reduced to such a thing, my love.
You could have used your words wisely.
You know, saying slut wouldn’t have harmed me.
Saying that you’re ‘a piece of shit’ would never
have hurt me but this.
And this ‘why’ will never be replied and
I don’t think I need it now.
I tried once again to ignite the spark,
to rekindle our imagination of love.
Wept, hit you, tried to not have you
before my sight.
But I always checked WhatsApp chat,
thinking there’d be a ‘Hey’.
You always began by this.
Or best, you always called.
I loved you for that.
I held you close, wept, kissed you hard.
That fateful night.
I pushed you away on bed, unlocked our hands-
remember how we held each-other after making out-
then fought to held again, more firmly this time.
I still can’t figure out,
why this isn’t ‘working out’.
We never had great conversations, I confess.
We always talked below the belt until
that day when you showed me your poetry.
‘How beautiful?’, I exclaimed.
I loved you even more.
My belief that we will make it till last, strengthened.
It was not that poetry, a few couplets.
It was those emotions weaved into words.
Those words meant a lot.
You said this just
a day before I was to move-in
to your place.
My heart broke.
You also added, ‘It’s nothing now.’
I lifted my pieces and walked with you.
I never felt that hopeless or weak.
Maybe when I lost my father
but this was a different intensity.
I thought you’ll laugh and say,
‘Arey, it’s a joke.’
Like you always did.
But that separation, that distinct walk,
it conveyed a lot.
It need not be explained further.
There was a time when I told you,
‘See this picture, @pjandthomas, I follow them on insta,
gay couple, I love this pic, he’s reading out to his partner.’
I expressed the wish to lie naked and read stuffs to each-other.
I wished to see the sun shine on us as we lay deep in
the thoughts of each-other, not winking the whole night.
I wanted, oh, yes, it was only ‘I’ who wanted this.
It was never ‘we’.
Now you stress upon being ‘friends’.
And further you insist on being, ‘friends with benefits’.
I declined both choices,
and chose despair, depression and melancholia.
my hands trembled in office, thinking about you.
A simple, plain ‘Hey’ message pop-up disturbed me.
It stirred those emotions,
those words stood before me
which you said to me.
But yet I continued,
I met you again.
This time to part.
But deep down inside me,
I had this belief that you’ll at least try not to let me go.
In the name of love, say.
No. In the name of friendship, maybe.
But I thought that you’ll try, make an effort.
I was devastated when you bid me a cold farewell.
A farewell devoid of any emotions, any strings-attached
or guilt of parting.
I wonder how you accumulated that strength
and engineered your response.
You might have forgotten,
let me remind you it was
ninth of February.
I was to move-in by eleventh.
I planned to surprise you on Valentine,
the fourteenth, I had things planned.
a place thought,
an evening which were to spend,
However, I never ever intended to write this,
in the name of love.
It never made sense to me,
But I never doubted it.
For I knew, that this universe surprises you,
it’s an unprecedented event.
Same, as today.
When you asked me to maintain this distance.
I know not, my love, which distance you’re referring to.
But I’ll respect it and make sure that I
do not pass my love as a guilt for you,
a guilt that you didn’t acknowledged my love,
didn’t reciprocate it.
I ardently believe you’ll be fine.
Oh, stupid me, you already are.
I’m saying this to myself.
Let’s just say, ‘Goodbye’
Happy Valentine’s day.