Every night
I saw that girl
who roamed the dark streets
with eyes filled with smoke
and feet swaying with confusion and power.
With clothes that reminded me of night sky.
She was out all night
to paint the world
in the color
of her black beautiful broken heart.
The many masks of her
hung by her wrist.
They smile, sneer and look down
at the faceless shadows
that are bound to disappear.
And though it always puzzled me
how she could smile,
after breaking so many people.
I finally understood
how it could be so hollow
and so fulfilling at same time.
I finally understood all this
the morning when I woke up as her.
Published by Nayana Nair
Hi,
I am Nayana Nair. I'm 30. Just a person who has tons of things to talk about....not much organized thoughts sadly.
I'm interested in all forms of storytelling (though I don't have the talent for it). So I like series, movies, novels, anime, and whatnot. I'm also really passionate about music, psychology, learning languages (I just dream big, too undisciplined to makes any actual progress) and literature. I am overall just a curious person who is interested in all kinds of things, as long as they suit my taste.
I always wanted to be a writer (and also a teacher)..But I don't think I have the skills required...this blog is just my attempt at becoming the writer I always wanted to be...Blogging for few years, I have realized I am more of a poet (although, I am not sure that I am good enough for that label)...I hope I realize more about myself through writing.
Thanks for dropping by!! Hope I didn't disappoint. :)
View all posts by Nayana Nair
Beautiful poem!!
Thank you πππ Glad you liked it. π
Oh god,that last line…. You nailed it!
Thank you π π
I am so glad that you liked it π
You’re welcome π
What a sad poem Nayana. I only hope it is fiction.
Thanks you π
It is my misfortune that I always end up writing sad poems π¦
I don’t know whether to call it fiction or not. Some image I has seen of a girl, and I ended up weaving this poem around that image. But I guess at least figuratively there must be some truth to it, cause I can really relate to the feeling of realizing that I’ve become something that I could never understand (that I never thought I will become)
But I don’t think it is something bad, just a sort of experience. My daily dose of sadness is essential for my creativity (which I am lacking in).
Thanks once again. π