Not The One
by Ayesha Khan Raval
I know my scars are not the first you have written poems to,
Nor are your lips the first that I have tasted with longing.
There have been 12 women in this room before me,
And I have run around trying to look beautiful for men before you.
You’ll never nervously hold my hand in the movies,
Nor will I dance with you in the middle of the road on a rainy night
This will not be cute, it never was.
I won’t be your stolen kiss on the backstage,
I won’t be the person you drunk dialed to in college.
You will not be the man I have impulsively crossed oceans for,
My face would never be the first that flashes as you close your intoxicated eyes after a night of 7 shots.
And you will never kiss my forehead while I sleep like my old lover did,
Perhaps we shall never find a name for this.
Perhaps I shall always hate you to make me live in the moment.
Maybe someday alcohol would trigger me to tell that I love you,
And we would ignore it morrow morning,
I know that you and I can never fall for each other,
Maybe we will always live with the ghost of our pasts.
O trust me love, when I say this,
I’m not your first, and you definitely never were mine.
I know, you have cried to melancholic tunes thinking of her,
And I have soaked my velvety pillowcase for months.
Reality cast its spell,
And maybe romance is not for me and “forever” is not for you.
But when the dawn of our parting arrives,
Also, shall we know,
That my damage waltzes with your damage,
And my demons jazz with yours.