“PLAYGROUNDS”-Nayana Nair

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The breaths not taken are accumulating.

It mixes with the tears not shed.

Creates a poison that lingers in my thought

but doesn’t flow into my blood.

To keep me barely alive to suffer.

Suffer from a poison of my own making.

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Slowly I forget

one small detail at a time.

I realize it only when I see this gap in memory

that my frail imagination fails to fill.

Words are slipping out of my hands.

My thoughts are no longer mine.

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All the parks have become graveyards.

Where tomorrow died a slow, slow death.

And it slips into an even slower decay.