Betrayal's Silent Weight on Lonely Hearts

 The body in the bed is just a shape of stone,

A warmth I once called home, now I am alone.
The echo of a promise in the space between our sheets,
A language of forgetting in these solitary streets.

You trace the patterned lies upon my patient skin,
A script I couldn't read, a game I couldn't win.
Each "I am fine" you uttered, a brick within a wall,
I watch the silent building of my solitary fall.

The cruelty is the normal, the coffee cup, the kiss,
The meticulous architecture of such calculated bliss.
You are a careful craftsman of the hollow and the deep,
A secret you are keeping even in your sleep.

This is not a shattering, a single, bloody break,
But the slow and steady weathering, an endless, dull heartache.
To hold the hand that holds the knife, a most peculiar art,
To be so desperately lonely with your own heart pressed against his heart.

Alpana Saha

19TH November 2025💔