An Open Letter To ‘Her’

You were like the grill of a window and me, a mere droplet of water trying to hold on but ultimately falling to the cold hard ground. Letting go was better, lest we should have amalgamated into one rusted being.

As a teenager with too many infatuations and too little inhibitions, I often make decisions I will grow to regret. There is this one bittersweet memory that haunts me these days though.

Dear first girlfriend, you probably gave me my first heartbreak and I am finally okay with it.

I felt like a sappy rom-com protagonist with you. Every fleeting moment I spent with you was spent foolishly and with ingratitude. All I can remember now is how the lines of your hand perfectly touched those of mine, the way your pupils dilated when you spoke about tennis, your silky black hair that troubled you on a windy day and the little peck you gave me on my cheek when no one was around. I cannot picture you as vividly now, but your warmth still lingers.

You were like the grill of a window and me, a mere droplet of water trying to hold on but ultimately falling to the cold hard ground. Letting go was better, lest we should have amalgamated into one rusted being.

I could spend hours looking at pictures of us, reflecting. Now, that just sounds oddly creepy to me, rather than ‘deep’. Oh Instagram poets and how they have polluted me. Nonetheless, I have had a gangly plant-like growth and some of the credit goes to you.

There is a small chance that we will ever meet again and an even smaller chance of you reading this but I wish the best for you. Thank you.

About the author

Ritu

-14 -they/them -local poet -mathematics enthusiast -shorty -lowkey literary critic
Type in
Details available only for Indian languages
Settings
Help
Indian language typing help
View Detailed Help