By Rajeev Kushwah
//the solvable problem of true kinda love//
i cut my skin, parts you didn’t touch and words for other lover(s) who’re not you
the last one at a restaurant – awake, alone. pull the chairs, draw the curtains, set
the tables, switch off the lights and wait for tomorrow. music is sad. on my way to
the kitchen, i step on a lizard while eating vegan ice cream. on reddit, i read
the worst ways to die – i think it is to become joachim trier’s the worst person in
the world.
going through stories to mark day’s end – it’s sunny in iowa and ellora is reading
one sentence a day from fifty shades of grey. i look at him in paris, i think i am
falling in love – i screenshot his picture and mail it to myself. the subject –
precious person of my dreams. the first “oh, fuck!” moment of the day. i worry
desire, there’s only true kinda love.
it happened in march last year when i zoomed in on your whatsapp display
picture and felt, “of, fuck!”. i resisted, didn’t text, it didn’t pass. i feel it when you
drunk text. and story time – origin of “oh, fuck!” was on 6th march, 2020 – you hugged
me last. the world was entering an uncertain lockdown, i was head over heels,
abandoned at the railway station. while you carry the broken umbrella, i
remember the hug that broke me.
in october, i really wanted to kiss you when you left. i just said, “bye,” didn’t even
hug, screamed “oh, fuck!”. the feeling stayed. your text remains a reminder. i
bitch about you – an excuse to keep you alive, saving only the worst of you. kept
the tickets to sunder nursery, hoping to frame them and gift you but you
left. still looking for a
reason. i believe you owe me an apology.
you owe me a poisoned hug. the worst way to die is to love, to be the worst
person in the world. steven universe taught – people drift away, everything
stays but it still changes, and true kinda love is a solvable problem. at night,
the last one at a restaurant is in love. they tire themselves to sleep, slipping into
tomorrow – worn out. exhausted. fatigued. they wake up and scream, “oh, fuck!”