Stages of Infatuation!

First-ever romantic gestures strung up on display for the world to see, strangers become witnesses to pleasant uncertainty. Not wanting to confuse kindness for interest, the mind wanders. Flowers die in winter; how could she ever know this could possibly bloom? My mind gone, yet my body present. Seemingly mundane movements leave me breathless. I touched him with an icy hand, trying to ignite the same fire and curiosity that he had set alight inside me, forever coursing through my veins, burning through my very seams. Intoxicating eye contact can’t help but look away. Stolen kisses in the dead of the night. Our hot, steamy breath competing against the cold that is July. Lost in each other, forever entwined. Perfectly crafted puzzles of our own creation. Left forever falling to the thought of you. Time is too precious, and how I adore every minute with you. When your eyes melt into concern and ask those few simple words, “You okay baby?” I realize nothing could be purer. Although not so everlasting as I intended. The perfectness was bittersweet. Nothing but a mirage, disguised with thick perfumes and smiles that could hide desperation. Indecencies now paint these paper-thin walls. You could do anything that you pleased, as long as it kept you, and you did. You created your own work of art on my very seams. You were only tainting me, so I showed no mind. Free to expel every desire you craved. Your fingers painted away at my skin. Teething away at me. If only your presence had lingered like the ink splotches and braille you marked me with. It’s not a bruise, just an ink spill. You vandalized my outer surface. I let you nevertheless. I would have done everything to make you happy, I did too. At the risk of me. At the risk of losing myself, and I did too. I broke myself trying to make you want me again and again. You could feel it in the air, the quiet weeping, the sad sob stories left behind closed doors and within tear-soaked pillows. The kind of pain that makes you want to scream. The worst part was that you saw my pain. I’m sure you felt it too, and I’ll never forgive you for that. I let you be my everything, and for that, I blame myself.

Next blog will be out soon.
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Desai Thoughts MEdia.

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