By Ridhima Yadav
My naked soft veins, vulnerable to this unpure world. To the excruciating rays of the sun. I lay, like a sad worm on cement, crawling through the scars.
Telling myself he’s worth the pain, beautiful like the stars.
He loved me, but he wasn’t the shape of my heart.
His fingers cut through my face. His love tore away my days, yet the most I’ve experienced is through him and his dewy gaze, ……….wet from something unexplained.
Intoxicated I layed in his palms and his love was always real just died at last.
He was the love of my life, but he wasn’t the shape of my heart.
Now my stupid cracked wall youth leaks with rain, coming down into something I call just the past …which for now, ………keeps happening again so I keep scratching off the walls praying,…….so desperate.
So many bad dreams, they say I can change my nightmares into good ones if I pray enough,………… but what if one day I don’t wake up from one.
Nightmares, I remember those nightmares blurred out in hazel eyes.
Eyes holding clouds big enough to dive in, big enough for anything.
In midnight I confided in warm and safe beds, to ward away the magnetic pull of his beauty.
To forget the taste of the sun, I roamed the earth,……….. yet only the rainy days became my friend.
The streets remained so wet.
Warm hands I craved.
Like a child crying for it’s mother who had abandoned him.
Only in the eyes I was limitless. Only in the cries now I stay. Roaming like a sick child.
In the morning the light fell from the window. Light that had known every particle, that I haven’t touched or loved yet. Promising another heart,……. yet I held onto that deadly scar.
Dreams battling nightmares on bed.
I’m still waiting.
Now the sun sets without telling me. It sets just like that every evening.
Pain collects with pain like raindrops on branches to bleed down as I sit with what was.
My life now which seems and ceases to make sense.
My life, the colour of a bruise like I’m born to rebel through the convexes of the womb. Propelling outwards like a ring of fire…., lighting up the dawn.
I’m drowning with no goals. Thinking I’m pure.
Life,…..the colour of a bruise, purple and blue so is my pain,…….and my scorny yet delicate veins ache and like the shutters on a cold night I’m waiting ………..for him, to be whenever and wherever he wants me to be.
I’m still waiting.
Maybe it will all make sense, even though the people that love no one are here.
I have gotten off of every line and ran to get back but today I didn’t.
Today I couldn’t.
Healing and breaking I know is years long but I keep digging my skin with glass breaking trying to find some meaning.
All I know is that he was the love of my life but wasn’t the shape of my heart.
Nothing matterred things were okay,……but didn’t feel like it so I always gave in.
You would turn yourself off with a switch, become cold ……….when I needed you, but when you did need me it was like we were young again.
You had all the strings. Drew me down picked me up whenever it rained, you held all the strings. Played guitar the best.
The sun wakes up the same,…… the same way it did when u were there and makes me think of it all and it makes me think of us tossing dreams under the tree of stars in broad daylight shaking leaves, cold breeze.
The fine lit yards wet in morning dew, it makes me disgusted in myself.
The chemicals taking up my sleeve. I shake as I shiver for more. I pray …… ,it hurts too pray. I pray but I’m too unpure.