The Fifth Date

We were four pitchers down.

It was the fifth date.

Alcohol gave her liquid courage she said.

It was just verbal diarrhea, I thought.

She looked cute, telling me stories of her life;

She spoke of friends, family and memories.

Her stories were all about the rain, the cold and whiffs of air

She spoke of a friend. Him. Her buddy, her partner in mischief.

The more stories she told, the more I saw- Her. The real her.

The more I understood her. The more I was attracted to her.

It was her simplicity that had me. That transparency, the genuine her.

She would keep drifting back to him. He was in many episodes of her life.

The more she spoke, the more I wanted to hold her.

Make her mine. She was gorgeous. I could see a glow on her face.

But, it was strange. She was drifting farther and farther away.

I just couldn’t understand why. Something felt disconnected.

She was in her element. It was the most attractive thing about her.

But she was drifting away from me. And, that was making me anxious.

I felt like a child on the inside, wanting the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Wanting it bad. Wanting to throw tantrums because I felt a void. A black hole separating us.

And then, it hit me! It was the happiest I have ever seen her.

That glow on her face was because of someone. It was him.

The stupid girl was in love and she didn’t even know it.

It was ironical though, for I wasn’t the reason. It was him.

The more I heard of him, the more my insides crumbled.

But she was so alive, how could I stop her from speaking of him?

And as much as I crave to give her that state of mind, that glow, that love… I can’t.

For, she had already handed herself over to him. Unknowingly, yet completely.

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Sayuri - a small flower of Lilly, lover of languages. Advocate of sustainable and safe menstruation, co-founder of 'The Project Amara'. Fond of all the artistic things; flowers, poetry, stars, books and of course, her.

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