Your wretched heart

“You have such a sexy back.” he said, as he caressed my back. Oh how I’m dying for that sweet sensation right now. His voice, his lopsided smile that’s barely one, a smirk perhaps. His firm grip, his strength, his weight. Don’t mention that arm I can fall asleep in every single day and that little embarrassment that rushed to me when he told me “do you know that you talk in your sleep? Just now you were talking about jackfruits.” And then we humour about it and carried on to make love before I had some freak out which he of course listened to intently and offered a piece of his intelligence.

He was the one telling me maybe I should start a blog. What do I write?
Here I am writing about you and me. That innocent first time eating chicken wings together, never have I thought I would be doing this because of him.

Ironically, last night I found out that my lover is a married man.
As I was typing my first post, I thought his disappearance was because of work – an extraordinary job I must say. After watching his old wedding montage I found on the internet on repeat, it is of course hard to believe that. I have never seen a groom looking so  unfulfilled on his wedding day yet that might just be my mind in denial. I can’t believe the same hands that held my face just a couple weeks ago telling me how beautiful I am held another woman’s hand in marriage just a few years ago. The same lips that ravaged mine, kissing another woman’s lip on a wedding montage.

Maybe I should rephrase now. I am in love with a man who is not only there, but is married, perhaps still married.

What’s a girl in love to do?

After about 18 days of crying and perhaps some poor quality sobbing, my body has just refused to produce much tears any longer.
So, I went to my favourite place in town for breakfast and found myself walking into a temple. Clueless of what people were doing, I lit a candle, copied what others were doing and the priests gave some blessings. I even tried talking to the Lords, just like how they do in the movies. It was an experience.

I had a massage that left me lathered in and smelling like oil afterwards.

And the most thrilling was my trial Brazilian Jiu Jitsu class. A martial art I find so intelligent. I’ve always wanted to do it and now I cannot wait for my next class.

I had a fire before I met him, even though not strong enough. When he entered my life, he fuelled it up and everything was enhanced. The fire grew so strong and now that he’s gone. I’m left with a burn and remnants. Ashes.

Is it wrong to still say ‘I love you’?
Even into thin air?

I am a banana in love with chocolat. Even though that’s not how I got this name – simply because of the love for the food.
I guess I’m just a girl trying to find my fire again.



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