Bedtime Story

Let me tell you a bedtime story.

A story which began a long long time ago

In a faraway place, hidden deep inside

Called the heart.

The heart led a happy life:

It would be happy as long as it listened

To her wise mother’s words, “Dear Heart,

Never visit your ugly neighbour, Memory”.

But one day Heart leapt across the gate

And paid a visit to Memory,

And this bedtime story is about

The sad results of this visit.

.

This is a story about happy eyes

That turned dull, of smiles frozen,

Of days that dragged by, of

Forgettable people and fleeting joys.

.

This is a story of numbness

And an all surprassing loneliness:

Of dejection, and a constant

Dull ache right below the skin.

.

It’s about always feeling cold,

The tips of your fingers constantly freezing,

About laughter and words sounding distant

And never experiencing a moment of silence.

.

Oh, do you not want to hear this story?

Then go to sleep, darling. But remember,

Sleep isn’t a safe place anymore;

That’s where those hands always find you.

The Mouthless Woman

The drip of a leaky tap

Has turned into a gush of blood.

I am terrified of time:

Its malevolent, fickle movements.

The night no longer embraces me

In its absolute blackness:

I can hear all of its voices now.

I fear if I turn just an inch,

They will tear my skin off.

.

I find myself being afraid

Of so many, many things.

I am so full of secrets.

History’s pull is stringer now

I dare not imagine a future

Rid of yesterday’s scratches and screams.

.

I fear I will turn

Into the mouthless woman

Decked in her father’s sweat

And her mother’s tired expectations.

The mouthless woman is dangerous:

She lets him have her life.

More importantly, when she finds a voice

It will only say, “Keep your eyes down, dear”,

“Do not provoke them, daughter”,

Or worst, “you’ll grow up to be just like me”.

Travelling through the Inside of a Skull

BlogeHer Prompt for Friday, November 7: Where is the one place you would never want to go on vacation that other people seem to love?

I do not know why people so eagerly want

To read the map of other people’s minds

And travel through the inside of a skull.

.

Don’t they know that the way is not safe?

Full of dark, dirty secretive streets,

Their foundations shaken, cracks everywhere?

.

The people so twisted, ugly and stupid

Ghastly shadows of what they are outside

Inside his head this is how he thinks of you

A rather smelly little shop, almost empty.

.

The bed you sleep in after the day

So uneven you cannot sleep

The shadows the curtain sways to

Creeping into every corner of your head

.

And when finally you leave that skull

And stop reading that map,

And come back to your own,

To realize with horror,

That place stands nothing in comparison

With the darkness of your abode?

This Night

We lay on the moist grass

A soft wind blew. The cold

Had taken leave, summer

Had not yet stomped in.

It was the beautiful in-between season

When tiny flowers unabashedly coloured

And the nights were cloaked in a cooling hug.

 

The black trees swayed gently above us

The stars seemed so close and the sky so near

That it seemed they’d fall on us any moment.

 

But all I could see was your tender smile

And the shadows of leaves softly touching your face

As the sky shone softly in your eyes,

I realized I could always see this night

In you. 

The Constants

Some things remain with you, after everything else disappears

The comforting harmony of the night, the cold which hugs you tight.

When you try to remember, you hear laughter and picture bright lights

Was there really no pain then, or is this how you choose to picture it?

But now, what haunts you is the eerie conversations between silences

The forced smiles, the glances you indulge in before pretending not to see.

 

Things you thought were constant collapse so quickly, 

They replace you with one-dimensional memories of you

And when they see you, they see a memory they chose to preserve,

Gradually, even that shadow of you fades away, and you see

Their eyes, blinking to fit you into an image you outgrew years ago.

 

They become speeding cars, making your heart thud for just a moment

Before they soar past you, leaving you on the street kissed by dim lamps.

In the end, that is what you remember: the soft light which shone bravely

After all the other lights were put out, the gentle breeze fanning your tears.

 

They fade away soon, and you force yourself to stop caring

Loneliness is sticky like honey; its taste clings to your mouth,

You gaze at the sleeping sky, the grass peering longingly above

And you remember the constants, everything that stayed with you,

While you were too busy running after sun beams and mirages.