A Breathing Legacy

By Priyanka Singh

 I am no more a dead legacy

Of 16 years of shameful smiles,

~8 years of smiling with teeth showing,

~the rest of a blooming tragedy.

I’ve lost the count of times

Of being the ashtray to the butt of your cigarettes,

Smoking away taunts full of choking breaths.

When the scars of lashing leather belts faded,

My mourns wished to be jotted down

Because with a kalam in one hand

And bottled tears in other,

I’m the silence evading after an almost won war,

Because the laundry room is not my battlefield,

Because burning every journal of mine

Won’t stop my words from

Spilling and splashing from beneath the doors,

Singing and silencing the questioning stares,

Living and leaving behind 

A breathing legacy.