White Lies of Wronged Nights

i know you didn't
sleep with him. but
neither does it take
a hammer to break a
heart. and i have died
a hundred deaths in the
thousand little things
you did around it.

there were days when
the summer got the better
of me, and i had dozed
off without a good night.
but i did get back to you
late, close to daybreak,
only to know that you'd
been awake - in a candid
conversation with a dear friend,
and i admit, i felt terribly
substituted. i remember
leaving at your place my
favorite novel on your birthday,
and i had called you to check
if the story was in line with
your taste. instead you sent
me a video of your special outing.
shaking a leg with mr. candid
in a lavish one piece; his gift
to you. 'beautiful' i had replied,
watching you gyrate to the music -
your body a spinning flame
reveling under sweeping lights
- choking on a fresh batch of tears
that i regret having cried. on another
day, if you remember, we had
an argument. and we didn't talk
for a week. i was alone, and wrong
enough to hope that you were too.
mr. candid kept you company, you
told me. that you being upset was a
pain he couldn't stand. that in his arms
you divulged about my lovelessness,
and he, like a true friend, offered you
solace with his lips on your mouth.

'but you love me, right?' i retaliated, furious.
'yes, baby. with my soul. and so i
didn't reciprocate to his smooch.'

if going down is the benchmark
of adultery, i have been cheating
since day one. for on my knees
i have prayed to heavens - thanking
for this life that has you in it.
it's to close this chapter, i realize
i committed a sin. having held your
profanity in the sacred rooms of love.

- Sobhan