“They go through my closet trying to find me and maybe themselves” – Nayana Nair

.

He stepped down from his ‘cloud nine of the day’
as I stepped out from my house made of last drops of rain
and at the intersection of fleeting memories
we fell in love.
That is what I tell my friends
when they ask me about the moment
I was tempted to end the sadness of my life.

I tell them about the words I borrowed from his lips,
his borrowed tongue that helped me eat a bit more.
How I taped his adjectives on my mirror
so that I wouldn’t have to look at myself.

They sit with me on the table
I can’t bear to share with my love.
They stare at me, as I ask them what to wear,
how to hide my poison, how to hide the crack at the elbow,
the bruised collarbone, the split lip,
the ache in my heels, my frayed wings,
my broken voice
and all other reminders of what love has done to me,
and what more love can do, if i just let it in again.

They tell me it is all healed.
They tell me it is all past.
They hold their skin against mine to make me see
that the cracks are all in my mind,
how everyone looks just like me,
how everything wrong with me is now the norm.
And they laughed
when I looked at them with concern.

They dropped me at the restaurant
and vanished at the farthest bend of the road.
As I dragged my feet towards another story
that I will never get to complete,
another tragedy that suited only me,
I looked back and tried to think of all the things
that these kind friends of mine suffered
as they hoped and wished and lied to themselves.
The exceptions they now considered normal,
the wounds they cannot even see,
the pain they cannot call pain,
the love they cannot bear to leave-
I tasted these facts
in every spoon of artificial sweetness
I fed to my mouth that evening.

7 Comments

  1. Hi, Nayana
    I just wanted to thank you so very much for the inspiration this piece provided me. I was saving the really great seeds of inspiration your poem had hidden in it’s lines in my Word Bank and got inspired about the process of how these seeds stay waiting to find their time to germinate and blossom into poems or writings. I just wanted to thank you so very much for the seed of inspiration your poem had in sparking a poem in me. If you might have an interest in reading it let me know – chucklindholm@hotmail.com and I will be happy to send you what bloomed. I shall be forever indebt to you for this inspiration and the resulting poem, My Dear!
    xoxoxo πŸ˜˜πŸ’•πŸ’–πŸ˜ŠπŸŽπŸŽπŸŒΉπŸŒΉβœ¨βœ¨

    1. Hi πŸ™‚
      I am surprised and happy in equal measures to know that my work and my words could serve as an inspiration to you. I am really glad that I was of some help πŸ˜€
      Will be writing to you soon. Looking forward to your poem:)
      Thank you once again for letting me know. I am somehow really happy and sort of honored by this….don’t know how to explain…
      I am equally grateful to you for always cheering for me and my work and for all the support you have shown till date. And because of that I am more happy to have had some role in a work that matters to you.
      Thanks a lot πŸ™‚ πŸ˜€

      Have a beautiful day xoxo πŸ™‚

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