She sat on the bed, her legs crossed, hanging from its side, with her back against the wall.
She looked at me without saying anything. She looked at me hard. Her gaze straight like an arrow, penetrating the space between us, penetrating my body and piercing directly into my naked soul. She looked and looked, for hours, I don’t know. For in those moments, in the confines of the four walls of our room, time had stopped existing. It had stopped mattering.
I wanted her to speak, to say something, to break this cruel silence that lurked between us like a viscous fangs of a snake, that hissed and writhed making every molecule of the air full of poison. Full of hatred.
I wanted her to open her mouth and shout out loud. I wanted her to abuse and curse me. I wanted her to vent out her anger, her anguish, and spit it out the venom that was filing her body. I wanted her to lunge forward and hit me. Hit me hard. and punish me in any way possible, any way imaginable.
Anyway but not like this.
Not by sitting quietly and absorbing all the pain and anger that she harbored towards me. For I know, the longer she held that pain, the longer she held it inside her, all that will become a part of her, slowly, bit by bit, and in that process, will kill whatever love she has for me.
. . .
Hi, if you liked this post then try this piece on the anguish of one sided love –Why do I still love her