• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 09
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Dear Y,

I came to you in hope that in 10 days, we would cover up 10 years of absence from your life, and you from mine. It has been difficult, to see your face and feel sadness in the same breadth I feel gratitude, a tepid longing and cold loneliness. Sadness is slathering everywhere and sealing our lips with a black thread. We can not even mourn aloud. The words, they take violent flight, they elude me. I can grasp none, not one. And so I watch silence winning the war. A threatening pulse underneath all the unsaid words like we will never be strong enough to uproot our words.

Do you remember when I said I love you? I wonder how you did not object. It is not that I don’t love you but this love thing shifts, it changes and sometimes all I feel is anger. I want to yell in your face and then cry on your shoulder afterwards.

One night, I held you by your waist, and it felt like a whole planet stood between you and me. This is not the first time I have felt a nameless chasm. I was scared my arms would crush the bone in your hip. Feigning a proximity that wasn’t there was pointless so I gave up, I took my arms from your body. Before I went to sleep, I watched your face and imagined what it will look like in death, when your chest seizes to rise like it does now.

Tell me. Do you feel the silence too? Do you see the sputtering fire in my eyes? Do you know too, what I really mean when I ask you how you are feeling and if you are hungry?

I want to tell you that I love you again, to cast the silence but how, how do I love you?



This bond of ours is precarious with no visible link in sight, old and feeble like a spider’s web in a forgotten cupboard. I am reminded everyday that I am failing. I am failing at what I think you expect of me. I hate that I can’t dislodge the marbles of pain that stay in you. I cant unzip you and remove the detritus one after the other. I am failing at everything, Y.

Memories lost, illusions residing, we are holding on to a time we never lived. I barely remember you, you scarcely remember me. The only world you give me entry to is from memory, when I was barely walking. Twice now we have tried, we have tried to sew ourselves back to each other. I have built all these rooms in myself , all these rooms you were not privileged to witness their construction. You walk now in these rooms and you find no home, they are unfamiliar and strange I can’t find a room in you too, one I can breathe easy without choking.

I’m sorry, Y, I am failing.