Didn’t learn to love but learning to hate you

You turned out not what you told me to be.

Ergo, the reason, convenient for you to hightail whilst I tolerate the ache emanating from the whole ordeal and mourning me.

Yes, mourning me and not you?

One mourns for one’s loss, and I lost me in loving you.

I mourn for the loss of my soul, my innocence, my wit, my integrity, my faith, my courage, my futile attempts for the hope of it all, that you would be the endgame for me.

The very first memory of you that rushes back is of your sweet disposition on our first date, you in your blue sweatshirt, wet, for it was drizzling, on the Harley Davidson you borrowed of your flatmate, anxiously waiting for me at the subway.

Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue, all ticked off the checklist. 

But now that I look back at it, it was nothing but a mirage you simulated that paved the path of hurting I have never braved.

The self righteous astute who once exclaimed, “Bah Humbug!” at the sight of ‘Love at First Sight’ rom-com trope, was swept off his feet by you at initial gaze. 

But life played a number on him, for it was not an opening of a rom-com but a horror movie.

The Hogwarts Express, in this case, was destined to be derailed before Harry could even reach his to-be Alma Mater. 

Ensnared in your web of pretence, date by date, night by night, hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second, I was devoured by you, a dementor in the disguise of whom I deemed my Patronus.

You knew, you very well knew, that my willingness to sustain the clandestine meetings emerged not out of my carnal desire but out of my love for you.

You were very well aware of the fact that I have run up my very last strength in loving you.

Yet you exploited me to satiate your hunger like a hyena munching upon the leftover carcass.

My pristine soul was under your dominion, for you were my king of kings in whom I fancied my salvation.

You knew I didn’t have it in me to make another run.

For your gluttonous tongue had now savored the delicacy of the tenderest flesh of ingenue foal, and you can’t even let go of the wretched tripe that remained of him. 

But between you and me, I would like to come clean.

I knew you wanted nothing more than my flesh, and yet I made love to you in the hopes you’d requit my love someday. 

Merlin says, “The opposite of love is not hatred, but indifference” but how can I be indifferent to what you have put me through?

My entire existence was reduced to a mere orifice that you plowed at your disposal.

I didn’t learn to love you but I swear, I am learning to hate you.

My hatred shall be Jhum cultivation, which no doubt would be suffocating, even asphyxiating too, unleashing its wrath to expunge the remnants of your vicious agency over me. 

I want my fertile land back. I want the lush crops once again embellishing my farm soaking up all the warmth of Sun, fruiting and nourishing their fellow denizens of the Earth.