NaPoWriMo after all

Here’s a collection of the blank verse poetry i’ve churned out in the first seven days with the exception of ONE experience.

APRIL 1

i’ve spent more time staring
at that yellow box with its
tip slightly off the edge
the circumference of the lid
sliding off the sideline
whispering as if a request
to be assisted for a moment
in restoring its equilibrium,
than actually stepping over and
above my territories of melancholy
and restoring that equilibrium
everyone seems to be so
incredibly proud of.


 

APRIL 2

even on my most abysmal days
i have one constant thing to offer
and i hold it at the bottom
of my most sanctified coffer
i find it funny that once you’ve seen
the seventy-nine different layers of me
you’d walk away with one lose fragment
of me that most fail to see.


 

APRIL 3

Oh, what a lovely day it has been
With every day, a little less of that remorse
And more clarity I see.


 

APRIL 4

For a little assignment, a couple of friends and I decided to shoot a rap music video. And obviously, I was supposed to write the rap. Surprisingly, I did a decent job at it. In the process, I discovered  a new facet of me that seemed to have been out of focus.It was a quiet little journey of two hours that yielded in plethoric self-exploration.
I’m super super glad.
Not sharing it here because the project isn’t complete yet.


 

with friends, even the best of them, it’s different
because they’re not the watermarks in your life
you’ve got to detach yourself from their lives
and let the wound open, unarmed, warm
like a fresh layer of skin scraped off with love
wait till they come back, overwhelmed with the world
and you call out to them, saying welcome home.

you were the watermark in my life
never letting the wound remain unattended
until the day you picked up a butter knife
and gently scraped off a layer of skin yourself.


 

APRIL 6

most of my poetry
is a collection of rotten anecdotes
masking a subtle detachment of sorts
either that,
or they’re letters to you
with words that can’t be typed or scribbled or posted
because I’ve only ever written few
it’s strange still – this love affair with you.


 

APRIL 7

my walls are nonexistent because
there’s nothing left to protect
except the dust from your sole
that i’m trying hard to forget.


 

 

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