You went under.
The piece that did the remembering was anaesthetized.
Like, I can tell that those three standing together on the red line are a family
because they’re wearing the same brand of shoes. Converse.
I get tense wrong, a lot.
The more I am schooled in clean ends and beginnings,
The more viscously my mind rejects them.
I’m very aware that this doesn’t change the facts.
My feelings don’t count.
They don’t count.
Can’t be calculated; don’t tell a story; won’t fit a peer reviewed publication.
But I hope it comes back to you.
So that when you read me, you read you.
Because death anywhere is death everywhere.
For now, I boil oranges.
Simmer, really.
I can fill my lungs, fill this house with the fragrance.
Let it overpower the rose scented candle I bought and burned
because it’s Feb.
All things were poison. So we made the dose.
And I know it’s been a while
since the scream left your lips.
But it’s making its way back to you.
Will you let it find you?
20.02.2025/VDS
Vyoma 