I fall back on my pillow defeated, and lifelessly drop my phone by my side. You flared up and raised your voice at me for the umpteenth time before hanging up, and this time, I didn't bother fighting back.
You call again 20 minutes later with an update I don't really care about and then, just before you hang up, your voice changes to a fake sugary sweet uptempo. I just say bye and hang up because I really don't give a fuck anymore. My pillow is waiting and so is my dream-drenched sleep and both of them have never been stained by you.
You can stay up there in your self-righteous tower and meddle in my affairs all you want, I am not getting reeled in any more. If only you realise that I am just moving further away.
You had your chance to tell me the truth a long time ago. In fact, you had more than one opportunity but you chose to badger me with conditions we both knew would never work. If you had really cared enough to make it through my shields in the first place, you would know that I don't exist in the realms that you inhabit.
I will never wear a shimmering sari that slings across my back to reveal a low-cut blouse, drape my manicured fingers around a bedazzled clutch, pop open a bottle of champagne with you while people around us clap, and pose into cameras to capture a fake moment of togetherness.
And you will never know what it's like to sink into me in the dead of night and not want to come up for air. No, your steel-grey eyes will never go beyond the flashes of my coffee-brown skin that you have seen across table.
The decade-long difference between us has stretched into a lifetime of anomaly. I am going back to my sleep and dreams filled with the dark deliciousness of a lover I can't get enough of. You can go back to the world that runs on transactions and terror.
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