Soumya Mukhija
The curve of my lips is not a smile anymore.
I remember the day you left me like it was yesterday.
The bright morning seemed more cheerful than it had been in ages
I remembered all the times
Your flesh grazed my flesh
Like slow addiction
Tongue tracing my goosebumps
Your scent engulfing my body
Each time I murmured your name in ecstasy
Fingers entwined, tightening as if even the God himself could not separate us
But you could.
Stay.
I never knew what heartbreak was,
But it wasn’t supposed to feel like this.
It should’ve been sad, I should’ve been crying
But I wasn’t.
This was so much more than heartbreak
When I felt the thirst clawing at my throat and stared at the glass of water in front of me
But couldn’t move enough to drink it
I couldn’t feel myself
My body felt heavy, carrying it was a burden
The air around me turned into iron each time I tried to breathe
Bleeding from my nose, mouth, ears
Except there was no blood.
Stay.
I’ve been cleaning the house thoroughly nowadays
Brushing the remnants of your fingertips off the coffee mug
Wiping your crooked smile away from the mirror
Chipping all the walls
That were painted in the color of your skin
I had watched your back as you prepared to leave that day
And wished you could have prepared me, too.
“Shut the door behind you.”
Leave.