Skip to main content

Spiral

Come
Let us slice into each other
With fine surgical precision

You slash me here
I slash you there
And then
When the storm is done
I will patch you up
And you tuck me up
You bring the bucket
I the mop the blood
And together we will cleanse
Our ancient hurts
Our guilts
And our fears 
Until we start again

And over a cup of coffee
You tell me 
My dear
Just how much you love me
And I shall tell you
Just how much
I love you.
Labels:

Comments

  1. Jennifer WagnerJanuary 10, 2024 at 12:56 AM

    This one rips at the heart! You are spot on. It is so sad what we are capable of doing to each other. Our attempts to repair the damage with iterations of love can sometimes not be enough. Though I do have hope they can with new beginnings!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ankita February 12, 2024 at 5:19 PM

    This is intense!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.
13 comments
Read more

Castles in sand under the weeping willows

I know I have been busy I have been busy digging Little pits in shifting sands By a choppy sea, and waiting For my little dreams To form puddles in my living And slowly watch its walls collapse Into itself Water to Water Sand and all Amidst the roaring of the waves And the silences Of the droopy willows Crying In the falling rain
Post a Comment
Read more

Travelers All

Not all days are the same. There are those nameless faceless ones that are born out of ennui and quickly fly into oblivion. Nothing good comes from them. All they do is burn rubber. They don't take us closer to our destination. Then there are those days when the skies open up. There is an earth scattering screech, the kind you know will give way to a loud bang. Scarred for life you limp along, again. Crying over those who died and hurting for those who refused to ride with you again, you ride, for this is the only option you have known. And then there are those rare rare fairytale days. The ones that starts off without a cause but go on to transform themselves into days of momentous impact. These are those days that leave behind magical memories. That feeble hint of a smile amidst deep furrows of pain are from days as these. Travelers in time that we are, let's pray for short burst of sunshine and a fair share of fairy tale days.
9 comments
Read more