Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Judas mon amour, golden boy manqué

What I miss:

Strong hands at my nape and my shoulders on a late night like this one, kneading the knots away.

The hair and warmth of his legs entwined with my smooth calves on a cold night like this one.

The lovenotes and drawings on the kitchen message board.

Watching him chop and cook as I was curled up with a glass of wine.

Seeing him smile at me when I walked through the door after work.

What I don’t miss:

The ice water shock of learning the enlightened, sweet, polite, handsome man that I and all the girls, and mothers and aunts, loved and thought to be such a golden boy, was a fraud.

The slow unraveling of all the proof of all the betrayal.

The grotesque mosaic of email, SMS, email, voice…so many lies in so many media.

The crushing revelations:
That those you love will hurt you like no other.
That love becomes hate in the flap of a hummingbird’s wings.
That you do not know, ever.
That you cannot trust, ever.
That you cannot believe, ever.

Sara jahan ishq hai jhoota


Blogger Sakshi said...

hahahha...good one.

2:15 AM  

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