Theres something cracked under the skin, and I feel it when my left cheek moves.
I must have bruised it when i fell, but I shove my face up against the long common mirror for the second-floor girls, and look for some clot or graze, but on sandpaper skin that I have not washed in three days, I find nothing.
My project- partner asks if I’m okay.
“No,” she says when I laugh and grin till my cheeks hurt my eyes, but I insist, “everything is chill bro. its cool now ya.”
She asks me to come to her if I need to talk about anything –
like when i cried and cried till i couldnt breathe after she had yelled at me, as i walked from the acad to the exam department to the hostel and till my room and on my bed and fuck i either had to breathe or cry but my body just couldnt choose-
but im okay now.
i wasn’t five days ago when i fell, but she wasn’t there and no one told her so i can get away with it this once
she leaves and i finally into my room, thank god
my cheeks hurt too much from giggling over nothing
uthpala asks if my thighs are alright
i ask her not to talk about it
then she asks if she can see my arm
but she asks and thats more than i can ask for-
when you dont anymore
and i dont anymore
and we both have stopped
i didnt miss you after you left
I didnt miss you till now
We always fought about you leaving, then my leaving and made-up again. This time, we decided it was better if we didnt.
So all I have left of you is the years of emails and texts,
with your poetry buried beneath,
and our real selves under that too.
I didnt miss you until now, and I wont miss you again for some time,
so for this duration that I do – I’ll let myself cry.