Treasure Island

Nikhil Parekh

(27/08/1977 / Dehradun, India)

was it my fault


Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every droplet of my euphorically
mesmerizing sweat; and she on the other hand
torturously evaporated every ounce of happiness from
my life; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every of my celestially euphoric
smiles; and she on the other hand made me unjustly cry
a countless tears of murderous hell; even an infinite
years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every stream of my quintessentially
life-bestowing blood; and she on the other hand
inhumanitarianly buried me under a fathomless
graveyard of her meaningless deliriousness; even an
infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every triumphantly rhapsodic fantasy
of mine; and she on the other hand metamorphosed every
treasured moment of mine into the most diabolically
asphyxiating of nightmare; even an infinite years
after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every ingredient of my untamed
sensuality; and she on the other hand heartlessly
castrated me of all my virility and vitality; right in
the center of the boisterous street; even an infinite
years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every of my pricelessly untainted
adventure; and she on the other hand devilishly
incarcerated me in the prisons of her hedonistic
sadism; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every of my inimitably seductive
whisper; and she on the other hand yelled a boundless
volley of abuses at me for no ostensible reason or
rhyme; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every element of my altruistically
infallible philanthropism; and she on the other hand
criminally cremated the last bone of my spine alive;
even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every of my royally resplendent
destiny line; and she on the other hand made me
sacrilegiously beg on the sordidly deplorable and
orphaned streets; even an infinite years after we got
married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every line of my perennially
compassionate poetry; and she on the other hand blew
me away like an obliviously fictitious speck in her
spuriously lecherous cigar smoke; even an infinite
years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every poignantly enthralling sound
that I heard; and she on the other hand truculently
numbed each of my senses with her unrelentingly
tyrannical wickedness; even an infinite years after we
got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every benevolent word that I uttered;
and she on the other hand venomously snapped my tongue
into an innumerable halves as I was solely praising
her; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every molecule of my peerlessly
invincible strength; and she on the other hand
guffawed her heart out after insouciantly excoriating
my hide and feeding it to stray pigs; even an infinite
years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every timelessly reinvigorated
goose-bump on my flesh; and she on the other hand
maniacally dumped me under the most robotically fetid
of junkyards; even an infinite years after we got
married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every artistic fragrance that radiated
from my nerves; and she on the other hand ruthlessly
trounced and kicked me through the corpses of
devastating prejudice; even an infinite years after we
got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every ray of my truthfully emollient
soul; and she on the other hand mercilessly torched
every pore of my body with the disparaging hell of
lies; even an infinite years after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every vein of my pricelessly
undefeated life; and she on the other hand left me to
cadaverously shudder and die; even an infinite years
after we got married?
Was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every of my unconquerably iridescent
breath; and she on the other hand gave me the most
worthlessly despicable death at her very own hands;
even an infinite years after we got married?
And was it my fault that I loved her more than I could
have ever loved every beat of my passionately immortal
heart; and she on the other hand smooched and mated
for times immemorial with another man right infront of
my own eyes; even an infinite years after we got
married?  

Submitted: Friday, August 15, 2014

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