I think I see warning signs too soon

When you don’t smile the way you did when life first introduced us to each other
When you start not smiling back, almost unintentionally and possess a faraway look in your eyes that come and go, come and go in my dreams
When you don’t look me in the eyes and say ‘I’ve missed you ‘ from that corner of your soul which strangers have quite often longed to peep into
I think I see warning signs too soon
When you sit there in front of me and your heart doesn’t ache to pull me closer, to lean in and kiss the life out of me
When your hands don’t so much as brush against my knee
When I can’t gauge if you sit there, willingly, or do you sit there as a mark of respect for what we forged together in these fleeting two years which seemed like a novel beginning in an abrupt note and trying to recover from the abruptness of it all

But then again, I wonder, if there’s a decent beginning to anything. I mean, what are beginnings, anyway?
I think I see warning signs too soon
When the scent of your body doesn’t transpire into my senses
When your words seem like a twisted tale of nothingness
When I don’t tremble as you walk in, in all your precious glory
When I don’t feel pangs of longing and loneliness the middle of the night or the urge to brush my knuckles against your cheek

When my insides don’t burn for you

When your problems seem smaller than mine
When the rooftops and porcelain skin doesn’t remind me of you
When the music isn’t about love anymore, it’s about immersing myself into it and diving right in- not solely paying heed to the lyrics but drowning in the cadence, the rhythm, the push and pull of it
I think I see warning signs too soon
When you don’t pull one strand of my hair and play with it

When you sound bland and empty and the inner workings of your sentences don’t astound me anymore
When I spend hours and hours talking to myself and don’t feel the urge of recounting every detail of my day to you
I mistook love for routine

But then again, I think it was imminent
It wasn’t conspicuous, but, it was imminent
Your drifting apart, my sailing along
The emptiness of your life seeping into mine

Your green eyed jealousy and my bright eyed dreams
Your profanity and my gaping mouth- the churning inside my heart when you hurl abuses – the gradual numbness crawling into me, the disbelief and profoundness of the moment transfixing me- the word ‘slut’ being imprinted on my skin- my past- this second.
The words ‘suck his dick’ sucking into my everything – crushing me and scathing me with poison. Polluting my whole existence. Polluting every time you uttered those hushed ‘I love yous’. I wonder if you’re able to sleep at night. If the guilt exterminates every inch of you. I wonder how I ignored those warning signs.
Maybe, just maybe, I see warning signs too soon.


4 thoughts on “Slut

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