The Bengali Chic

I wonder where the Peace went. I wonder where I lost my comfort. Searching in strangers souls, Hoping to reunite my surrenders, When happiness was a constant feeling, When anxiousness was mere a word in the dictionary, Perhaps the love was the loathsome truth, The truth I had right in front of me. I wonder when the love got lost, In between those “I can’t live without you”, I found the truth of "I think I’ve never loved you enough", If I did you’d feel more content and yet, I stand on the edge of this hill,  Looking at the mesmerising sunset, And you one text away, But I feel uncomfortably sick. Sick that past all these years you were the medicine to my panic attacks, And now you’re just someone I’ve known yet I know nothing about. Pritha Krishna

Where should I begin the unhinged tangled story, Should I be the protagonist or the villain. Or should I narrate the story of Hawk and Tim, How they were in love & I was just a short chapter in their epic story, How I lived through Hawks colluding sexual identity, Or How I supported Tim’s journey out the closet.  Should I begin with the lies I learned,  Or Should I share how the love lost again? Perhaps, I should begin with apologies, For I walked by Tim until Hawk caught a glimpse of me I was loyal to our friendship until Hawk made eyes at me, We were young, dump and rather tortured by our stagnant endearings. Lost in our mind and hung up on realities. Tim was always in love with hawk, only to be caught in his fear of identity,  I walked in when winter came by, closer then ever they stood in false reality, I was just a passerby, an insignificant letter to their unrequited tales of love.  Until the sand castle came down with waves, Desires, F...