苦

 

 It fell upon me, like a summer fog

Stealthily, as if a forgotten vengeance, and then

All of the sudden, everywhere, inevitable.

I learned that as one grows older, 

The kind of sorrows they have tend

To take darker shades, spread deeper through their

Body, vines of bane, clawing 

Twisting at their heart

One tires of standing tall

What unbearable pains, those

That spring from within, the ones that you 

Can't relieve, nor you can explain.

One withers like a sunflower : their colors

Fade long before they fall apart.

Sometimes I remember the boy that carried 

A guppy in his stomach, a basin of glass 

Full to the brim with all the things that

He swallowed

Walking about life, unknowing of what he was

Protecting, until all the water have seeped

Through his cracks. 

I am the boy

I am the water

I am the guppy.

Niobe

 

In that cold room, time was frozen still

It was snowing again, footsteps sounded

Like the blossoming of the night stars, weary.

Something must have withered in me :

When i came to, it was morning

And you were gone, only your

Damp voice resounded in the chambers

Of my remembrance, dipped

In infinite jest.

Strange, isn't it? we exist only

In the present tense and things tend to fade away when

We place them behind us.

You are fading in parts; your face is blurred

Your micro-aggressive ways

Your nervous laughter and

Your deliberate act of sucking all the

Air in the room by just 

Breathing. 

What I will remember

Until what seems to be the rest of my life

Is this bitterness my last words to you left 

In my exploited throat -

It's why I'd rather walk away from things that

I cannot change, after you.

Sometimes, on restless nights, as the 

Wind bellows and scratches at 

The window, I reach out to

That cold, cold, insufferable spite

Looming at the bottom of the well.

I still

Haven't forgiven you, as you rest,

Decaying.

On moist nights I revisit that

Cold room to watch you, as I bask in self

Loathing, I spy Medusa as

She struggles to claw her way out of 

Your pipes, and

Try to remember what is it that echoed

In the deepest parts of my conscience on

The way here,

My fingers are going numb

Petals of dead flowers fall on the silent

Snow piled over my thoughts,

Consciousness fades and static bursts

Like a festival of everything forgotten, 

My chaos is soft, for a change, shes says: next time

Try not to swallow your rage

Next time, barf out the poison so 

You wouldn't have to erupt so gloriously

Unravel like a loose sweater when pushed 

To the wall, then spend a life time gathering

The ashes, knitting your sanity back in place, see

Love, you haven't won the argument, the dead just

Can't talk back.