The roses you brought are beautiful.
But no flowers could ever cover the betrayal that she reeked of. So there is no use in trying and mending her, for you are here now, but you will leave when she becomes too much to handle.
She is happy alone, in a house she made from her broken pieces- her broken heart the centerpiece. You will be nothing but an invader.
You would pertain her as a challenge and you will try to fix her. But she finds solace in her sorrow. Her sorrow is all that is left of him. And she will guard it like a child. She will never allow you to fix her.
You will never understand her reasons, you will want her. You will render vows of loving her for eternities and infinities. Maybe you even mean it.
But you see love is not what she needs. Her body thrives on hatred. If she feels even one ounce of love in her blood she will collapse.
She doesn’t want to hate you. She doesn’t want to hate anybody else, other than him. Too much poison is fatal, too little poison is worthless- she has just the right amount inside her.
So stop right there! Don’t talk about loving her.
Because she and you both know how it ends. It starts with love, sure it does. But we all know where it ends.
-Smiti Mehrotra
cruel concoctions 