He Remains
It’s been two years since he’s been locked up in the acrylic frame. It was two years back that he left. But he left behind a likeness of him, framed high above my bed.
Nowadays he sits silently in the brown shoebox on the top shelf of my almirah. In a pile of speeding tickets that my reckless heart has collected over the years.
On the back of each of them are scribbled small love notes. He watches them pile up as I struggle to wipe my slate clean of him. He sometimes snickers in the shoebox as I try to drown him in whiskey and coke.
Like an apitaph, he remains stamped across my heart. Corroding all my dreams, destroying all my chances of happiness.
He remains. In the top shelf of my almirah. In a brown shoebox. And he remains, unseen in some corner of my broken and worn out heart.
He remains in the corners of my smile and in the silence of each night.
He remains.
- Neha
Talia says:
exes!!!! haha ..hmm
May 14th, 2006 at 06:07 pm
anirudh says:
phir wahi..
May 14th, 2006 at 11:48 pm
Baba says:
wa wa,
as if language constricts itself
and crucifies itself through our own emotions
the repetition of the word almari and the brown shoe box are what makes this beautiful:)
May 15th, 2006 at 01:10 am