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Secret of his touch

Dikshita Saikia

My body waits for his touch,
While I am gorging on the flavour chocolate fudge,
In the midst of Ayan touching my neck and pushing his penis into the vagina which is mine,
I apply my talent on myself after having four glasses of wine,
My body still waits for “his” touch,
When I am nicely juxtaposing “his” face on Ayan’s.
Can I actually apply this talent with any guy?
Because now all of it seems like it’s a big fat lie.

My job is wonderfully rocking,
I work obediently with a non-stop smile which I am mostly faking,
I do drugs in the private bathroom that I own,
Which my boss gifted me as I cleared all my loans I took from him with heavy moans,
Nothing shocking.
I was happily trapped in this city.
Was I?

"His" breathtaking breath was enough to engulf me in his shores,
I left my favourite city, my favourite job for him with silent roars,
So that I could lovingly adjust to his jar of favourites.
I would make him shrimps so that I could win his happy glimpse,
And vomit right after making without his knowledge because his smile and his breath meant more to me than me.

The more he went closer to his drugs,
The closer I found myself near him.
The more he went near other girls,
The more I found myself going towards him.
The more he went closer to his addiction,
The closer I found myself to him.
My body waited for his touch.
And one day he dies. I funded him, I killed him.

And now I find him everywhere in the city I hated but I love because he loved.

So, I try to become him.
I try what he tried.
I tried his addiction
Then I cried
as it was difficult.
But there was peace in between,
Very lean
One of a kind types feeling which I can’t redeem,
So, I shifted completely to his world to find him,
Believe me or not, I became a lot crazier than how a lover becomes crazy for his or her love in a film.
Was I looking around for love or peace or a pizza with lots of cheese?
I did not have an answer so I kept looking wearing a pair of his jeans.

His family called him useless, waste
The society dragged me out.
Also, I did not belong to his caste.
I went to the private bathroom again to come and shout, shout out loud.
But I fought for him,
And continued with his addiction which became mine now.
At least his addiction was with me,
His addiction now funded me, funded my fuel,
So that I could get away from anything I found cruel.
The rats and frogs who stayed with him during every level of his intoxication came to meet me,
The cats had become frogs for him
And later he could only see and understand frogs,
They were his constant companions as I had to be in office,
I had to earn to fund him,
So that he had his constant companions,
I can see frogs tripping with me now.
My body waits for his touch even now!

His addiction was funding my self-destruction.
I funded his addiction.
So, am I funding my self-destruction?

But I still could not find him,
I need more drugs, I am angry.
I am hungry,
I want to eat him and so I juxtaposed his face on Julian’s now.
But his face stopped appearing on Julian’s.
Why?

I killed my breath.
I open my eyes in a hospital now but I have no one around me.
Today it was different
I was suddenly looking for myself but I realized “he” took away “me” from me.
He took away the part of me I gave him.
All this while I was looking for that part of “me” he had.
Because his part in me died long back.
And now I am completely destroyed.
Even a suicide won’t help me find myself.
Nor a pizza with lots of cheese.





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