He held her close to him
and lovingly grasped her hand
as they walked past my frail heart
oblivious to my existence –
and I followed their loving steps
to the park where we used to meet,
and stood in frozen stupor
as he kissed her with a passion
never demonstrated to me.
He traced her face with fingers
as if he’d been born without vision,
and gently whispered words
that I was forced only to imagine,
and I gazed at her appearance
in desperate search for what I lacked –
but noticed instead a close resemblance
of every detail I possessed.
I realized then, deception is not fueled
necessarily by lust or beauty,
but by a callous indifference
brought about by boredom and intrigue.
Gazing upon the pieces of my heart,
I turn and walk away
with the sobering realization –
she too will stand in this spot
in a matter of months to come –
understanding that deception
is simply a rite of passage.
Syed Salman Abbas.
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