And both of us become strangers onto each other
Do not worry about me.
We will look beyond eyes and run into each other
As usual, for the rest of life.
I do not know what you would
Treasure of me in your mind.
But in billboards planted
Across my fervent heart,
I will celebrate you as the man
Who made me woman.
And there are the small things that I would always remember:
Your affinity to catch colds; my rising fevers on seeing you
Your headaches, your backaches; my avowed helplessness
Your falling asleep while waiting for my reply
Your asking me to remain with you for all of time. . .
All your delicious lies. . .
Over the phone,
the sound of your drinking water,
the soundlessness of your yawn. . .
the camouflage of who you were talking to
the new meanings you gave to worn-out words
Yes, all of this.
And that once,
You called me a goddess.