“What secrets do you hide behind that smile of yours, love?” you had said to me with an odd gaze. We had only met for the fifth time.
“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?” I had said playfully.
But then you did. You kissed me and I found myself spilling secrets to a stranger.
You collected my secrets in a jar and you asked me to look at you. And I stood there with terror taking root inside my very heart as I looked at you expecting to find disappointment and disgust swimming in your hazel eyes.
You spilled my past onto my skin and you kissed it. Your lips touched each fragment of my life before you. You made it sacred. You embed my sadness into my surface and suddenly I was valor. I wore sorrow and bravery and broken love on my flesh like jewels.
“Don’t hide your courage away, Your past is my armour, pretty girl.” You said with a gentle smile.
I have heard that your mouth has been running a lot just like your conscience would every time when someone told you that you didn’t treat me right. I have heard that you have been relishing in your new found fame by telling little stories that are far behind reality. But both of us know that’s all you really were, remember? Remember how I told you I have figured out your secret and you told me you didn’t want to talk about it. But I made sure we did. Remember when you were at the edge of tears as you admitted to have been chosen fragments of your favourite quotes, novels and films. Remember when you said,”I don’t know who I am and I try to be whatever I like.”
Why don’t you tell them about your insecurities and the way I held you every time you cried because you couldn’t take it any more? Why don’t you tell people about the way I told my loved ones to love you like their own son because you never were treated that way? Why don’t you tell people I was at your beck and call each time you needed me? Why don’t you tell people about the time you couldn’t protect me from him? Why don’t you tell people about how you wanted to undress me when I just wanted to have a conversation. Why don’t you tell people about the time you laughed at me as I cried because you were making me lose my mind? Why don’t you tell people that your eye was constantly wandering even when you were with me? Why don’t you tell people about the first time and how you manipulated me into letting you touch me?
I have learnt to live with my mistakes and my regrets because it’s better than ever having to live with you. I have learnt that the constant whispers about you were true and I was on the blind side. I have learnt that you are the nightmares that you wanted to run away from. But I promise you that they will always catch up to you, just as they have now. You never did love me and I have learnt and you don’t know the meaning and value of love, because you never were given any. I suppose I can’t blame you for that, Can I?