Soaked in regret

Soaked in regret prose poem

You will not be the same after him.
Neither am I. Of course, you suit him better.
You can make him dosa and sambhar as opposed to
the roti and dal that I would have managed.
You can do long walks, late night dates, stay overs…
The whole nine yards. I did none of those. I could,
I should have. But I didn’t have the courage.

All I did was phone calls. Stupid phone calls.
I messed up. Big time.

He is perfect. He is beautiful. But if you stay long enough,
you will see the cracks that are integral to him.
His unrealistic expectations of you and blatant refusal
to acknowledge yours of him. His childlike innocence,
that too often gets overshadowed
by his childish tantrums.

Will you be able to handle his mood swings and bouts of depression?

He will hurt you. Like all the women
he has had before you. He will throw
words so sharp at you, you will bleed.
From your eyes and your heart.

I bled from both. I still bleed. Sometimes.

But I want you to stay. I hope you stay. For his sake.
I want him to find you beside him every morning
day after day after day after day after day…
So that his emptiness gets filled somehow.
Just like he claimed it would if he found me beside him.
Just one morning would do, he had said.
Just one morning.

Have you looked into his eyes yet? They tell a very different story
from the one his mouth endlessly blabbers on about.

I want you to stay because every day, I die a little.
Of regret. Of shame. Of guilt. Because I could,
I should have stayed. But I didn’t. And now,
he has you. And all I want is for you to stay.
Because you can! Don’t you see how simple it is?

I should have stayed. But I didn’t.

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