Along with every passing minute
As you lay still on stranger’s bed
I stood watching,
With scales for eyes,
No room for emotion,
Only attempts at inadequate expressions.
The emaciated hands of that clock on the wall
Peeled away an hour, and then another
I felt every deliberate pull of time
Tearing tiny fibers of my heart.
Maybe you noticed,
Or maybe you heard the soft sound of muffled pain
Because you mumbled something.
I jumped at the feeble sound of your voice,
Anchoring the possibility of my life
On the very strength of those words –
Every breath you took
Pumped air into my lungs
I focused on the rhythm of your heaving chest
And learned the art of survival.
I never loved you more as
I had loved you then.
In some time,
You woke up and looked at me.
It was a curious gaze –
Like one would look at a fish in a bowl:
Not important enough to contemplate
But fascinating enough to stare
Perhaps it was the scales in my eyes
Or perhaps that is how I always seemed to you:
An object of simple fascination
I should have known this day would come.
But how could I have seen through my scaly eyes,
They reflected nothing else but you.
How could I have heard the sounds of the siren,
When I was drowning in the depths of viscous emotions?
While time had further bruised my tattered heart,
You struck the final blow –
And no, not a loud and violent blow; No.
Just a sharp, precise, and gentle sting.
Like a needle in the hands of a surgeon,
You pierced my heart–
In a swift surgical act
I had not even felt the blood oozing.
In fact, not blood, it was
Pushing out through that tiny hole you made,
Slowly but surely it kept flowing.
Then the slow poison of indifference
Crept into my head
It was only then that I noticed what had happened
I had felt no pain – just the void where love should have been
I felt indifference where burning passion should have been
The blow was struck
And I had not even known.
You had drained all the love in me
And I had not even known
You killed me so gently,
You did it so lovingly.