Whispers

Last Friday, I ate an entire packet of gems but refused to eat all the pink ones. Chewing on chocolate and glucose, I told you about the time I was bullied back in grade school. And how sometimes, I lay beneath the stars and feel the weight of the world on myself. Flesh and bones crushed from the impact of it all.

You watched me. Absent minded. Thinking about how magical it must be to not break, ever.

Last winter, I colored my hair red and left a similar colored lipstick stain on your shirt and when I ask you about what you think when the silence around you consumes you, you say things like “crimson”, or “scarlet” or “fuchsia” instead of saying “I remember the contours of your body and how the world has made you just the way you are. I am tracing galaxies on the palm of your hands while fitting your fingers perfectly between mine. I am memorizing how you absentmindedly twirl your hair around your finger and let it go just as easily. I am thinking of crushed glass on the ocean floor and how you look when you stand by the window in nothing but your tee shirt because you can’t sleep at night. I am listening to your voice and the sounds of the storm and thinking how I’m falling in love with you.”. Or sometimes, you just say, “I was thinking about you”.

Four years ago, I told you about myself. And you said it was okay. You told me you would remember me in shades of pastels and ripples in water. You told me you’d count each one till the last one died and then some more. You told me I was the last dying ember from the fires of a giant cosmic engine.

Four years ago, I told you about myself and you said it was okay because you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to say, “everything in my sky is the same as yours and I’m here for you. Please come back.”

But then again, I was everything you never thought you wanted. I was the colossal “Fuck You” to your mind.