Don't Change The Rules

The winding streets are now twofold, split

The way my tears ran down my cheeks

Almost symbolizing the little dual life we both led.

You were amazing though, or were you not

Another duality that I can't seem to let go of. Or I can.

Anyway, I was on my phone the entire time-

See, I'm not a poet, nor an artist to jot the intricacies

Of every path that I walk, or happen to walk, just.

The little printer's place, where I stood outside

Clicking a picture of you on my cellphone, funnily enough-

When you were right there, through the glass door

Passionately negotiating prices and delivery time.

Did you notice me take that, because all I can see on my screen

Is a blur of your spectacular silhouette-

Or maybe that's not the entirely the camera's fault.

It's still there, by the way. Putting permanency

Of black over innocent, white sheets of unwrinkled paper.

It was noon, you know, but I walked right uptil the parapet

And then I, just one glimpse, promise- okay, maybe two

At the flat staircase where I waited patiently for you to discover your gift

That I kept on your locked front door- that I saw you find-

And that I never saw you mention ever again.

We made good love that day. Or did we?

I stepped forward. See, two glimpses, a year, a lifetime.

Of patience, of losing heart, of keeping sunken ships in the ocean.

I did not peep inside, I knew how to, of course

Considering you told me yourself to face a certain way,

And not make noise, for the curtain rod did not completely cover

One of the windows- And you kept your bed there.

I snored a lot, didn't I? Remember that one drunk instance-

Actually, no, it's okay. Your house got a new tenant.

I can no longer hear your brown slippers smacking

Against your feet, while you walked on the uneven stony path.

But your smell, as present as ever- you were old school,

That Dabur Amla oil and the deodorant that I told you to change.

Because it masked your own fragrance, of new clean sheets-

Maybe that's why you liked them so much in the hotels.

When did it all end? Did it end at all?

Was it that time when I went running away-

And I stumbled, fell, face forward on the ground

While asking God to give me a sign. Was it the time

I whispered to you about the little deformity of mine

That an entire metro's hustle-bustle could not turn down?

Should I have- for once- guarded my frail self

With the papers, the books and the laptops, that I knew too well?

Should I have- that one day- not come to your house crying

And stood there with you barely touching me

But me clinging onto you for dear life?

Or was it my birthday- vulnerable and asleep

I dreamt about you, and then I saw you for real

Only to come to terms with the fact that,

You hadn't even touched me to wake me up.

Or were you really a martyr? Or did you just find- never mind.

Just tell me this. If you ever find this- this masquerade of a poem

Would you believe me if I told you, you broke me for life?

Would you believe, that barely two weeks from now, when my calendar

Screams at me that it's your birthday again, I look at the sky

And try to connect the stars to resemble your face?

Would you believe that July when a simple guy with a simple name

Pinged me in a simple way, it would lead to this duality of alive and dead?

Would you believe I have not - can not have- gone to the places we frequented?
Would you believe I woke up with a dream about you, with your smile..
And there too, in the darkness, you kept walking on, until I lost you in the shadows.
And lastly, or not, here's a vial. Return all those tears that the little girl cried
All the way home, just because you changed the rules each time she played.