A silent shade of gray, resonates with the gentle murmur of Nicole’s car engine as the gang did a cross-country to Klang for seafood. I wish I had not laid on your lap throughout the journey, thinking to myself that I had not felt so contended with life for a very long time. Then perhaps I would not have sunk so deep into your insecurities and your lies, and found myself with a broken sense of reasoning, broken beyond repair.
A silent shade of gray, lost in the hectic bustle of a busy wet market. I wish you had not come along with me and Mum for our weekly marketing, and sat with us for breakfast at our favourite eatery. How am I suppose to now return there, week after week, buying the same fruits, the same vegetables, drinking the same iced tea, and not see you with every churning of my thoughts.
A silent shade of gray, caressing the dreamy KL skyline on a rainy Saturday afternoon. I wish I have refused your feeding me with soya bean milk with your mouth. It’s absurdly sweet, your lips. Then perhaps I would not be so hopelessly drunk from consuming your infectious affection and attention, and got myself emotionally incapable of loving myself again.
A silent shade of gray, a persistent numb that leaves me breathless with every recollection. I wish I have fought your initial enthusiasm, your shameless need to pursue me, your undying urge to see me every minute of the day, and your endless pursuit to be a part of my life. Fought you hard to kill the root of all evil. But I let you in, further than I should have, let you sink your footing into everything that matters to me so that I would then see your wicked prints on every page of my life.
A silent shade of gray, a gentle shroud of painful memories, a sickening throbbing of piercing sting, a miserable collection of expired passion, on the bed, on the pillows, on the toothbrush that you left behind, on your water flask that Mum would fill for you when you stay the night, on the dining table where you fed me my cough syrup, on the patio where you kissed me goodbye, on every square inch of the apartment that your have graced with your presence.
On me.
A silent shade of gray, I wish I had not known you.