You know when you cook and stay in the kitchen for a long time?
Afterwards you can’t really smell the scent of strong cooking.
Because you got used to it, right?
That’s what I went through with you.
I just did not know how fishy I smelled in that kitchen.
When I did leave and came back.
I knew the difference.
I could write this over and over again
About how emotionless I have become,
And by emotionless,
I don’t mean that I don’t care about anyone at all,
It’s about what I feel for you. There’s nothing,
Maybe one thing.. Anger.
But any love, any affection, any kind of happiness, oh no. Those do not exist anymore.
I listen to love songs and my forehead wrinkles -Confused.
I read love poems and I say ‘God, i’d love to feel something like that’ -Because what i had for you was nothing like that.
I want something pure.
Something i feel like myself
Like i dont need to change
I dont need to feel i need to lie
Someone who accepts my family
Who respects them.
Who would make me respect all.
Do you understand what I’m saying?
I have said things in the past, i understand
You think they were all a lie.
They were not. I actually know why i said them.
I felt them. Back then.
But do you know something?
Something no one knows, but one.
I have been praying God,
Every time i went to Makkah,
That all the love i had for you would turn upside down,
That He would drain all the feelings i had for you and drown all that down the sink!
I prayed and I cried for that to happen,
For all of the above reasons and more
And most importantly,
Because I started to Love you even more than I had expected.
I reached a point where you were my first priority before my prayers.
And i knew something was wrong.
So I prayed for a good 4 years.
I prayed so bad.
And in two weeks, what I felt for you
I regret you because I remember you.
If i had the chance to switch your memories off, i would have.
And now i have lost focus of the purpose of this writing.
So i stop. For the next time i try to write,
That would end up in a piece also about you.
Because you’re that kind of mistake that i feel so bad about, haunting me like the mummies.
And you know how i hate the mummies.
All the stories that i have told
Were just good business that got sold.
I took each Truth and covered it
With a perfect Lie that seemed fit.
And for everyone, I would present
A different twist, a different scent.
How should I personify my life this time?
Which story will I be wrapping up with a lie?
And Will I remember the tales that I convey?
Or will i forget them just like any other day?