Don’t you mention it

When your mother mentions my name on the dining table just to know what I’ve been up to, or when you’re restless and awake every night as insomnia grasps your being, don’t mention it.

When she asks you about me, take her out for a date, tell her that you love her. She’s not searching for a meaning in the relationship, she is testing you to pull the trigger pointed at her.

Don’t mention it, when you hear my favourite curse word, or that spot I always went to after we fought. That lump in your throat, when you hear that certain song I sang, don’t explain it to her.

When your sister wears that dress, and the reminder of the time we spent hours selecting that gift, still gives you the jitters, don’t you mention my name. I know you will wilfully raise your diaphragm, forcing yourself to breathe. It always feels like you’re suffocating as your heart pumps harder and harder in attempt to keep you alive.

Throw away the receipts of restaurants you have in your wallet of all those lunches and dinners we’ve been on. Don’t ever accept, that you still possess those letters, notes and gifts hidden somewhere in your closet and that you go through them more often now that you did before.

Real journeys happen inside of us. The extent of surprise that life can always out do the limits of imagination. I know you remember the intensity of the first gaze we exchanged. You’ll feel tears welling up, and you’ll see it as the sign of weakness, but it isn’t. It is the sign of the contrary, of strength. Yet don’t you show that to her. Don’t you mention it to her.

For I have sinned, if sinning is breaking free.

I say this with utmost certainty that my heart has been pounded upon and battered with the immense force and devastating strength.

You will take her out to beautiful evenings, tell her how gorgeous she is. You will remember to bring flowers for her this time. You’ll lie a little about me, assuring her, that she is the one. You’ll make the same old promises you made with me.

You will never have the nerve to tell me about this woman you’ll be seeing. You’ll put her in limelight, only to compensate for all the misunderstood signs you’ve been giving her.

When the moments that are meant to make you happy, leave your eyes like hot springs, you know it’s not easy to cope with absence. But you won’t mention it. You will fill the void with new promises, new scents, new insecurities and new mistakes.

And one day, out of the blue, our paths will cross. You will look away, because this time our gaze wouldn’t mean anything. The grief will clutch your throat, But you won’t mention it.

I know I’ll leave you wondering, how people who break, still manage to shine?

I know you’ll want to ask me, how I do it.

Yet, don’t you mention it.


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