By: Thara Venu
Let’s have a heart to heart talk.
It’s been twenty years…
And you haven’t changed.
Neither have I.
So once again, we’ll meet like we did before.
With a handshake and a crooked smile.
And we’ll talk again like we did before.
Little talk here and there.
And then, we’ll start our little game.
And you’ll play the role of the hunter.
And I’ll be the bait.
You’ll be the savior,
and I’ll be your sidekick.
But you have everyone on a thread,
you’ll pull and tug when you need them.
But I was on a rope.
My fingers have burns, tight red lines trailing across my palm.
And you were the masked puppeteer.
I didn’t gladly oblige to be anything of yours.
No, I did it for my own satisfaction.
For my own need of knowing that you needed me.
I did it so that I know I don’t need you.
But every note heard, needs an instrument played.
And an instrument played, needs a note heard.
In the end, we needed both of us
for our own satisfaction.
For our own sense of knowing, that if one of us gets wounded,
we’ll both die.
And as I lay, lonely, on my deathbed in many years,
my thoughts will come back to you.
Who did I live for?