“and soon it will be time” – Nayana Nair

.

in her two storey house
my doll sleeps on her silk sheets
with a knife resting beside her.
it shines
as if newly delivered and never used,
as if sharpened hundred times,
as if it has known the pain of blood every night,
every night cleaned
under the deafening noise of running tap water.
the metal mixes with her fears, with her trembling hands.
something again slips from her grasp.
and now it is time for tears,
and it will be soon time
for cycles of search and paranoia.
there is a time for every madness in her mind.
there is always a calm wait
before she reaches the next stage of hopelessness.
there is always a party hosted at the dead end of her lives
where she takes another drink,
and finds hands filled with warmth
and eyes that like the color of her healing skin,
the burned tips of her tongue, and her swallowed words equally.
but someone utters the wrong word,
looks at her the wrong way,
leaves the taps water, filled with smell of blood,
running in her mind again,
and again she lunges for the
the knife that fits in her hand better than any hope
and again she ends the song of her lover,
again she wakes up alone.

“FRIGHTENED”- Nayana Nair

I roam around these empty rooms,

this silent hallway.

And I am frightened.

Not frightened of loneliness or ghosts.

I am frightened of my response to this solitude.

I am frightened to see every fraction of me relax.

I am frightened of how calm my mind is,

how confident and powerful it feels.

I am frightened to know that any place can be my home

if it is mine and only mine.

I am frightened that this solitude

that gives me everything I want;

will take me far far way from

the people I love.

I am frightened that I love this loneliness so much

that I might always be alone.