Poison in your wine – The perfect picture

Have you ever been so enthralled by someone, that you can hardly breathe when you’re talking to them? It almost feels downright suffocating. Almost.

Yeah, she’s the one who came in and skewed up all your insides without a single intention. Your heart skips a beat when you see her. Sleep transcends into a perfect rendition of her most imperfect fragments. A few days in, and she’s your personal blend of heroin. You just can’t get enough. Her profile is all that you’ve been looking at on your phone. Waiting to see the magic word, Online.

All this because you liked how she went about, or because she said something inconsequential to you months ago, or because she smiled at you when all you could do was get your bottom lip down in time to reveal a poor effort at one. That’s all it took, and she never realized it.


Your heart starts beating again. Life just sprouted out again from your stale cadaver. Yes, that’s what it’s been, ever since she took up residence in the depths of your once-cold heart. Online. You stare at that word and phase out into a world far less cruel than life. One where you, an invisible enigmatic being, can spend the rest of eternity watching this girl, who is miles away, curled up in her bed, texting someone who the universe chose over you. Melancholy is no longer a stranger to you.

You can’t hold it in any longer and decide to let go of your restraints.

It’s one in the night, and you find yourself out in the open, with a cigarette in hand, when she creeps back into your head. She didn’t like you smoking. A flash of crimson was the last you ever saw of that cigarette.

You’ve always considered yourself a realist. Sitting down on the cold pavement, you start contemplating your life as a tribute to her, your pain, a sacrifice. You could learn to live through the desolation. All you ask in return is her happiness. After all, she’s the only one who had ever made you feel this way.


You take out your phone. Seeing that Online would send you on yet another emotional journey, which always ends in despair. Bracing yourself, you unlock it. Online. You try hard to control yourself. But what was that beep? It could not be.


Your whole body starts trembling. Never before had such intense emotion gone through you. Maybe the world is fair. Your hands were sweating. It takes you a while to manage a meager “hey”.


This is the happiest moment in your life.
For once, the person you’ve been thinking about, the past few months, is thinking about you. That’s all that matters. Time and space were mere constants in the face of what drove life. At that point, you knew that you achieved what Picasso never could. You’ve painted the perfect picture.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The Broken Monk is a designer undergoing meditation in Mumbai, India. He is rumoured to be capable of sleeping only once every two nights.

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