It was a gloomy morning with mild sunlight I opened the letter box T’was a wedding card A bright white with an eternity symbol in the corner I knew the handwriting The very pull at the end of every word Written in well learnt cursive * Even their names seemed to be in sync The made for each other kind It was, as if, Those two names were meant to be written side by side With just one word in the middle ‘weds’
* I went inside my room and shut the door Walked to my table Switched on my newly fixed table light And sat with a blank sheet of paper Wishing my life could be As new, fresh and uncontaminated as that A4 Unlike the crumpled brown paper Which had made its way to the bin * After sitting with the letter for an hour I asked myself – What do I write to him? Should I ask him the cause of this invitation? Is it a bitter revenge? Or a way to reconcile a relationship which will Never be the same Trying to tamper with our situation Was like pricking on a wound which was almost healed Which would heal Stop hurting me But the scar would remain As a reminder Of something which taught me How pain becomes pleasure * Instead, I opened my drawer And took out an old letter Which held emotions of a sixteen year old lover, Who didn’t care about my beauty or past? Who was brave enough to write, In that same cursive “I love you” With that same personal pull at the end I poured a bit of my blood Mixed with tears into that pouch of memories And sealed it And sent it That was enough hate from a lover On his wedding day *Enough