I Am Not Sorry

The stench of his collar and the tint on his shirt is not mine. Untainted and shameless, his smile is in the mirror. How down should one stoop to live in such a naked state of embezzlement? And how much must she love him that I can't compete? Burning in the flames of guilt, the cloak of my shame has turned into ashes. And you stand in the mirror smiling!

I smelt nicest, I looked sexiest and I tasted the best. But only for you! My faith was left uncared for and now I see why your mouth is so dry even though I have never drank out of it enough.

What I didn't do? What you did? Why should I do it now, that I know you don't deserve it? The bedsheet of this lady, you see in the mirror while you are smiling, remains without a crease but blood. 

I always talked this much, she must be voiceless. Or does she speak, only about you? Well, I did that too, fasted and bathed with gold in milk, but I could not get prettier, I always was. Unlike you!

You must marry my mother, she worshiped my dad. She never ate before him, kissed him while she knew he was not just his husband. His mouth was dry too but my mother curbed her thirst, not his waist. I still see him every time I go home. His smile in the frame irks me. You men smile so much. But only in front of mirrors, people, and lenses. 

We, wives, are cigarettes. We serve you only when we smolder. Then you waste us, breath by breath. Turning us into ashes. We get you high, but never enough. Wives are never enough. Love is never enough. Faith is never enough. 

I remember how every man loved me. They would die for me. They would embrace me but I denied it. They were better than you. More handsome and stable. They needed me. You wanted me.

I never considered love as a buffet. I loved you the way you were, I loved you for you cared and loved me when no one did. You backed me when I was alone. You protected me when I was vulnerable. But was it all for sex? 

If you were so unsure about commitments, why did you confess? I would not be in the frame with your smiling face. I will never consider your favor and help as a bribe. 

I was complete. I still am. The fact that you could not make me a mother, didn't invite me to taste food from other plates. We still were making good love. But you felt I was changed. Baby! You have changed.

And why is this an excuse? Didn't I moan? Didn't You make me scream to god? Didn't you turn me on with just a whisper? So what changed?

You are not god and my mom is a bad example. I will never die in the agony of my unfaithful husband loitering in other hearts and

vaginas!

I won't have sleepless nights, grey hair, flab, and breathlessness. I will now make sure that I stay unapologetic while I stand in the mirror with you smiling. I won't blame myself. I will laugh and cry, as and when I want. Your time is up!

Today I feel really satiated. When you smiled for the cameraman I felt that I shouldn't, but deep inside me was a woman who couldn't bear the happiness you had in that hair that were not mine, those lips that were not mine, in those breasts that were not mine and the legs that I didn't open for your lies. And a woman's heart is an ocean of secrets. And oceans like these cannot be constrained. Must it destroy everything that comes its way! I said to you that I am pregnant. The snap of the camera and the frown on your face aligned in real-time. Now you know how it feels to be in that dilemma. 

Now I see how your fat ego lets you disown this child? And to your mother who said that I must keep the private matters private, she must be happy to know that at least one of her sons could be helpful. Won't she?