Author: Girish Gupta
Image by Annie Spratt
Maybe you came home to sleep and the flower-topped beds were too pretty to ruin, and those drinks were forced down your throat while you wished you were at dinner with me instead, and maybe those restaurants were just starters before the meal we’d have at our dining table side by side, but what about the coffee I give you in the morning, still at your bedside when I return? Or the breakfast you cook that consists of two breads with butter but no eggs on the side like I asked? I know these seem like petty things and I sound like I’m ranting but this is how your coffee rants and my toast screams when I pick them up and throw them in the bin. I should be washing our whiskey glasses from the other night, but instead I stand in the closet, catching clothes and packing them. Not ‘our’ clothes this time but just mine because I need a week at the beach or mountains or maybe just a cozy hut away from you, to understand how I deserve to be loved and to discover that while you’re out there giggling, I can build jokes of my own to laugh at.
Maybe I’ll stay with a friend for a week and I’ll ‘flix and chill with a pizza in my hand till I pass out watching Friends again or maybe Suits for one last time or maybe, I’ll watch GOT to remind myself of the things we do for love. During all this I’ll smile and never speak of you but that won’t mean I won’t wonder if you had your lunch or slept in peace but when and if I come back, I won’t be making flower-topped beds. I’ll love you like I’ve always done but I’ll also love myself, enough.