An Open Letter to My So-Called Former Lover

Remember the time you wanted me to be more assertive?
To shed my shy, "love-filled" self and step into some version of a hardened reality you had scripted?
I bet you thought you’d broken me, that your indifference and cruelty would leave me too damaged to fight back.

Well, here’s the reality you never anticipated.

You want me to spare your unborn child?
A soul that doesn’t even exist—what a wild, twisted thought.
But I’m too "evil" and "vile" for that, right?
Tell me, did you even consider any of that while you were laughing at my pain?
When I was screaming inside, you were off fantasizing about two naked women,
Leaving me with a burden you yourself couldn't face,
And risking my health without a single care—
But then you wanted to burn the hospital down when your father died.

I felt bad for you. Because you only have one father—not a set of two.
But how dare you reduce everything to "what love"
When you, the one who slept around freely, dare to act like it didn’t matter?
I wasn’t looking for a fling; I was building a home, a life, a future.
I never treated you like a blank cheque,
But apparently, you were too shallow to see that.

So before you ask me what I’ve "become,"
Why don’t you tell everyone what you’ve done?

“MOM JAISI"—LOL.
You didn’t just reject me; you killed all of me, piece by piece.
And no, this isn't about rejection. It never was.
It’s about betrayal. It’s about deception.
It’s about the very soul of me that you thought you could crush and twist and manipulate.

But guess what? I’m still here.
Still stronger than you ever expected.
And this letter—this truth—is something you can’t run away from.

~ Kanika Kaushal ✨ The Luminous Muse

Comments

My Tips Get The Job Done

Boy, you need gold coins and chains, To feel that silky touch. Honey, being with you meant My soul needed a retouch... You might like maple syrup, But I could never build anything with that softwood. It was like babysitting way into my adulthood... You think your presence made it feel like Niagara? Boy, it was drier than the Sahara. Who gave you the license to operate heavy machinery? You never deserved to be anywhere near this sanctuary. Asking women to "blow" you a kiss, When you are the one too "slow" to catch up, And all you are good for is a diss... You need to work because you don't know how real FORCE works. You get high on your stupid WARS — How would you ever know the language of the STARS ? Isn't it funny you were trying to teach me about fingers? When I can get myself to sing more with my ladyfingers ...

Game Of Fire and Ice

Hey Mister, Why won't you play a game of Twister? I promise I won't play coy. Won't you love it if I were your only toy? You can be the Lion in the boardroom, Then make me roar in the bedroom. Let's play the game of fire and ice. You bring the sugar, and I get the spice. I am praying by myself these nights, Drowning my moans when the city sleeps tight. We can play the game of Super Sonic, And then have our own race over some gin and tonic. So find me, like an app can find a phone. No, I won't bring out my Medusa and turn you into stone. I have been getting over my fears, Learned to make my tears into spears. You can take me as you like. We can go until we hear the third strike.

Call Your Wife... Call Your Mother...

Call your wife. Call your mother. Tell them how you talk to women like me when no one's watching— But of course, I'm the Outspoken B tch*, and you, the Outstanding Gentleman in your suit and tie. But sure— I’d rather be outclass than be hung like sea bass on your trophy wall, smiling silent while you call me “crass.” Your twisted kinks. Your polished lies. You think I won’t roar? That I’ll tuck in my shadow just to keep your sin safe? I own my dark. Loud. Proud. You will not cage me with your guilt-laced chains. If you were so happy choosing her over me, Then go flirt with her . Not me. Don’t you dare come here with your diluted apologies and leftover lust. I’d rather be The villain in your story Than your sidepiece in silence. Because I remember— You were a playboy then , You’re still a playboy now , And every time you smile and say “We’re still friends”… God, I puke a little. You know your name. Don’t play lost boy. Don’t hide behind your “Good intentions.” I used to care...

Cruising Alone

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