NaPoWriMo (april 8-14)

The next seven days!


on an unusually hot Wednesday night
i wake up with the sweat
neatly tracing the curve of my neck.
my vision zooms in and out a couple times
before i’m thrown back into that gruesome
recurring nightmare memory in my mind
it is now a palpable ambiguity
that has left me –
left me? oh i wish it had
or i had
or my mind had
left me it hasn’t,
this Wednesday night
is another reminder of that
particular summer flight.



On the canvas of my memory
I’m painting my nightmares
With poetry.



never is there going to exist
a certain belongingness, i’m sure
but then
what is this mass struggle for?



all my days are silver lined
with your ghostlike absence
planting kisses on my nape,
my skin stings like a wildfire
as i push back against your force
letting go the enveloping warmth
of your memories – a phase
is what they’ll call it,
another lifetime – is what i say.



betrayal can sometimes appear
in the form of a little safety pin
that accidentally pricks your back,
you’d assigned your most special
fellow human for this mundane task
now in the afterthought of the Sorrys
you shall bask.



my anger is like
a concrete wall
it makes them larger
while i remain small
pushed to the centre
i exude tears taciturn
my mistakes, they teach me
lessons, i learn.



significances are ever-changing
evolving into something new,
they’re mere favourites,
changing at the drop of the hat,
so much that the minute you bend down
all teary eyed, shivering with fear,
with inexplicable emotions and remorse,
to pick up that rusty old accessory,
you’ll be whisked off to an assorted reality,
a nouveau nuance of your life.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s