Writers Jam

Chapter 1:

cowards.
the both of us.
or maybe,
only me.

i heard you went on a date the other day–
with the new girl.
the one you chose over me.

i learnt ways you can show care.
how affectionate you are towards her.
funny, ain't it?
once, it was all i ever yearned for.

the silent tuck of her glittering hair,
the stolen glances,
the accidental touch—
sounds like a dream to me—
one I'm not fortunate to live.

you and me–
a story not meant to be.

we know people in common—
a lot in fact. they all think i have moved on—
and honestly i did. remembering you, carrying you in my silent prayers
isn't the same as not moving on.

we share classes in common
and sometimes,
an unexplainable force attracts me
towards you.
a force maybe your precious physics could never name.

it's over.
me and you.

so who am i waiting for?
whose paths do i keep tracing?
what conversations do i repeat?
whose love do i still ache for?

you made it clear that you don't want me —
atleast your actions did.

how was leaving so easy for you?
teach me that part.
please.

Chapter 2:

do you remember the idea of us?

your mother's quiet nod of approval,
your sister's kind actions,
your brother's easy acceptance.

do you remember the dreams we dreamed,
the ambitions we shared,
the teachers who guessed,
the friends who rooted?

i can't say you never loved me—
cause i know you did.

perhaps at times,
love isn't enough to keep one rooted.
people do fall out of love.

i see hatred, an unknown bitterness in your eyes, not towards me…
but for every guy who ever approaches me.

and i could bet the same about you.

love and longing go hand in hand i guess….?

chapter 3:

we met again.
in the corridor
brushed past each other,
no glances exchanged.

closure—
a conversation we aren't prepared for.
honestly nothing would change now.

you carried on walking.
i stood frozen for moments to come.

my world filled with our common friend's chatter again.
where you go, who you're with,
the way you smile as if nothing ever broke you.

she doesn't realize the questions have stopped,
it's only her answer that echoes in my hollow.

people still carry our name in rumours,
and at times, they approach me.

i smile
and whisper under my breath:
"how i wish."

the insects who feed upon me after my death
would taste the love which ran in my blood,
seeping to my bones,
the taste refusing to die when everything else did.
the love refusing to die.

they say i dodged a bullet—
and maybe i did.
but sometimes i think,
getting shot,
and bleeding to death;
would've hurt lesser
than living long enough
to never stop longing.