In every country, in every city,
on every street
stands a home that could have been ours.
I am a daydreamer like that
As I passed the house with an always crying child,
as I passed the house with the overwhelming smell of incense,
as I passed the house with singing reality shows played on repeat
I only thought of the life we could have there.
In my mind, we fit every house, we fit every role.
Even if our body was stripped of every muscles and every bone
even if we put back together the wrong way,
even if we our heart were to be rearranged,
in my mind we would still fall in love.
That is how we had molded the spirit of our love-
to be stubborn (if not right or just).
But now there are years when I don’t remember you,
and yet there is no sadness in me that is capable of ruining me.
You are gone
and I am trying to grieve for something I don’t particularly miss.
As I pass the houses where our stories used to be staged
I realize they are again the buildings of strangers
that I am supposed to keep my mind away from.
My sadness selfishly keeps uttering,
“I need to love someone, someone who won’t do this to me.
I need to love someone, to believe in love again.”
I reach home with bloody nails and bruised fingers
leaving behind bricks with our names scratched out.
Oh Natana. This is so moving. I feel it all with you. Such sadness. I understand the grueving and the paradox within it. Grieving for something that you don’t really miss. I hope I remembered that bit right. I feel as if I were you, in this piem Nayana. Much much love to you xx
Yupp, you remembered it right. Sometimes the baggage we carry are not the feelings that we have, but the feelings that we should have had, the guilt of not breaking down.
Really glad that you could feel this poem so much 🙂 Really means a lot 🙂
Thanks a lot. 😀
Oh dear I apologise for the spelling errors. It is my blindness! Sorry!
No problem dear 🙂 Happens with me a lot as well. Could understand everything you want to say. No need to apology 🙂
Such painful loss.
Thank you so much 🙂 😀