Personal: I wish I could say...

But on Saturday, December 4, 2010

(And the time was exactly 07:48AM, as the Short Text Message in my moblile phone shows)

Love run away from me.

It left a message, this love; sad, sad message:

"I cherished the moments we had,

And everything we shared.

However, I write to inform you that, with effect from today (I have said it was December 4, 2010; 07:48AM),

There is nothing special between us.

Find a place in your heart to forgive me".

I was a mender-of-soles' place

That hour of morning.

Happy, up beat,

Preparing for the day that entered the ring with a fullsome sun,

Shining

Reflecting on pieces of glass on the ground,

Moving gradually through the blueless sky.

"Hey, read the text message before I do", I told the mendr-of-soles

-Only that he was mending a white belt, this time.

The handler-of-worn shoes read the message,

And was fooled by the word cherish,

And said the tidings were good,

Timely for a day with a shining sun.

"I swear it's good news; it is love in a mobile phone's inbox," he said, eating mangoes, after touching the soul of a bent shoe, whose to and fros he knew not.

Somethings we eat,

The way we eat:

Life is a question.

So, happily

I read the message,

And was never fooled by the word 'cherish'.

200 calls went unanswered,

When in the past the other side was a robbot:

Grabbing,

Wrestling,

Rushing

-At the whim of a mouthless gadget.

No more.

Thus started the blues,

Saturday,

Sunday,

Monday

-Bad days for sure.

Tuesday was better,

As it was the chooosing day:

Happy of gloom?

And the tabernacle-of-clay that carried the love is gone.

And went with a big lie,

Revealed during the 201st call attempt:

"Hullo," said the other side.

(What was supposed to be a love)

"I mean exactly as I have put it".

"So, you mean to say we have bee living a lie:

I have been living a lie,

This long?"

"Yap".

"Thanks, good luck"

"Yap".

Yap,

Life ends in yap.

Then, came the call from the other side

The side was love no more:

"Hello..."

Nothing like the 'Hullo" before.

"Yap," I said, taking it from Saturday morning.

"I wish to say..."

"No. Don't you know I was hurt?

And that I have realised,

That all the hurt and unbelief,

And pain,

And anger..

Was because.., I mean

Was not because of you?

I thought I was heart-broken for losing you,

But, but now I know,

It wasn't you,

At all, at all.

It was me,

Paying tribute to my love,

Knowing I can love and be loved,

And be dumped and grabbed.

Yes, the hurt and the pain..

I was paying tribute to my love.

Only that, my tribute tended to attach a face to this,

My love,

And the face was that of you.

No, I wasn't crying for you,

It is my love I was paying tribute to.

Go, go away."

"But..."

"Go, go away.

I couldn't sleep past three days since Saturday,

And it was because of you.

My left arm could grab dead wood and feel nothing.

I though it was a heart attack,

Attacking because of you".

"But.."

"Go, go away.

I am busy patching up my heart,

Before I give it away again".

Silence.

The love is gone.