Best Friends
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?
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