Early deadline of Wingword Poetry Prize coming soon. Submit your poems now!

Again

Somi Patel

Aughing numbly to the chest pain
that froze on the screen
Was it your sight that caused it?
Or the cruel lack of it?
The rain imbued in the back
of my hollow conscience
that but failed to
taste your smell,
urging a dryness,
not in my throat,
maybe, too soon to quell.
Succumbing noisily to the heart stroke
that pervaded through the speaker
Was it your voice that caused it?
Or the sudden lack of it?
Two coffees in a cafe drawn
in the back of my palpable memories
that but failed to
touch your presence,
urging a numbness,
not in my body,
maybe, too soon to experience.
Convulsing dryly to the rib damage
that tortured my fingers
Was it your words that caused it?
Or the ironic lack of it?
A deep conversation played
in the back of my swift desires
that but failed to
retain your perception,
urging a noise,
not in my ears,
maybe, too soon to pay attention.
So, don't judge me
when I leave unannounced
for
surrender is the option
I chose long ago;
It calls me back
and I surrender yet again,
only for me to divert back
into this path where
every soul is lost and found
and whether it is unfortunately or
arbitrarily lost again.


Leave a comment