(Artwork by Srijita Basu)
A hell lot of unease engraved you, for the moment you had touched me (for the first time); pulling me a bit closer. But it was a lot more congenial for you than the last time;
You have flaunted yourself to explore my body,
Just like the divers do in the great barrier sea, looking for adventure in every moment that is countable; only to explore the beauty hidden under deep sea.
But things have changed.
I am no longer a person to amuse you, no longer the jazz in the pub to intoxicate you, or the oasis to sooth you. Rather I have become a little bit boring to you or nagging kind of stuff. You no longer listen to me, just like the disposed old gramophone in our storeroom.
A pretty old stuff, just like your old book of poems with yellowish pages which may have been a good read in some lonesome night, giving you a feeling like a lump has been stuck in your throat and you just can’t remove it without reading the all of it. But neither are you a good reader nor I am the bright pages of your new magazine.
We have fallen apart.
– Ankit Manna
