Cutting through

When you left me, I felt it to the bone, the echoes of
who we were (and what we’d become) screaming,
changing the contours of my face, making it as
cold as those stairs my bare feet trudged up,
I longed for solace, but breathed the pitiless
air of existence: trying, surviving, fading, dying,
I lay long while the clock ticked, but time inside
ceased, I reached out looking to touch you,
but my arm just met that bed, suddenly uncomfortable,
unbearable, uneasy, and I left myself there for days
or years, I don’t remember, but I’m glad because
memory often traps you in a paperweight of
havoc, a bitter mass swirling, I don’t know how I
cut through, but I think something faint glimmers
now and then, telling me, speaking of
an almost you and I, we reached for too
much and found nothing in the end, a slipshod,
moody romance driven by ideals and their
antithesis, I guess you were smart enough
to realize then, but I get it now, and I’ll never
love you again, but love you enough to
love her without promises or expectations,
or twisted half-lies, or broken half-truths,
just linear, accepting and forgiving,
giving and taking, and moving on, honest
and flawed enough to find togetherness.

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2017)

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8 Comments

        1. We all change with time EP. I would suggest giving yourself room to love and be loved (and not in a platonic way), but then again, the choice is yours, and your decisions make all the difference, my friend.

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