A Woman Spurned

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06/02/2015 by Siddiqui Fayesal

I wore my mask and followed
Her.
Forever naive,
She never turned around
To see if I was
Following.
She knew I would.

She called it trust.
I called it foolishness.

She put a swing in her hips
For me,
While she playfully
Walked
In those boots I had
Bought for her
A year ago.

She called it attachment.
I called it weakness.

She was wearing the same
Dress that she wore when we
First met.
It had those red shiny
Beads that hit a note
When she swayed and
Walked.

She called it memory.
I called it showy.

I walked without a whisper
And she led me far
From her home
Knowing not what was
In store.

She called it fun.
I called it danger.

She twirled around for me
And I saw her the way she
Intended to be seen.
She titillated and teased.
She smiled and beckoned.

She called it coquettish.
I called it murder.

And then she stabbed
Me all the way till the
Hilt hit my ribs.

I called it treason.
She called it fair.

Siddiqui F.
(25.01.2015)

Note: Wrote it in Hotel Chandni Palace, Jaipur when I was there for the Jaipur Literature Fest, 2015

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