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Poetry || Asphodels (Bipasha Chakraborty)

And then my impulse grew out of my skin, tearing it to bits
I broke and entered my soul from those cracked openings
Only to find the wounds from yesteryears lying unattended
Beneath layers of pensiveness
Few half-healed, few still fresh
Tell you this truth, they all hurt equally
Though there are few spots inside left unhurt
I assure, they can embrace few more sores
I am searching for ways to keep myself distracted.
Travelled through the options offered by the extremities
Drugs, meditation, smoke and sometimes love overdose
When nothing else worked, I dived into the sea of
Strangely familiar, speculating, awkwardly staring faces
While I walked through them, the fallen silence screamed
Only you fit perfectly, everything else is such a compulsion.

I often keep a bunch of asphodels on your tombstone
Often, yes often. []

First Published in Issue Seven (Poetry Issue) of CultureCult Magazine
Image Courtesy: Comfreak