For rejections, tea, and bygone memories

I sit by the fireplace in the coffee house today – just like yesterday and the 124374 days before. The familiar, cold silence wraps around me for company, it is probably now comfortable with my insanity. I’ve, of late, taken to drinking tea, in your memory – probably the only way I can make you a part of me. But every sip sits in my belly like a chunk of osmium. Because, rejections aren’t exactly my forte. They remind me of the moments we spent together, of the moments I was left unwanted, of the times you walked over, of the ties you ripped apart. They remind me of the lead that leaks from worn-out batteries, of the uncomfortable tingle, of the teething bitterness that follows after.
I throw the dregs into the fire to watch them bend into the shape your face. And as I see the flames lick away the remains, I realise my heart will no longer smile to the sound of your name.

Author: Annapurani Vaidyanathan

I hoard books for a living. And read them too, when I am not sleeping. I express what I think, so my unheard feelings don't sink. I like to sing when I walk, to keep shades grey, at bay. I speak like a dork, but I don't want to drive anyone away. I write what's real, and nothing fake, so visit my blog whenever you need a break ;)

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