First time I cut myself
With a small broken shard
I sat on the gravy stained sofa
Next to the bed--
He had lurched me on.
Rubbing sweaty fingers on the flat--
The shard prick little.
His unforgiving hands in eyes-
Fingers run faster.
Rubbing turn to stubbing.
His hands on my breathing corpse--
Rib cage shook, once.
Side of cheeks hardened.
Life went away,
Tingles danced on nose,
River in irises stood cold and unmoving.
Hands still hitting.
My Rains stop listening--
They embrace my eyes.
Shards now kept between the fingers and wrist.
Shards of broken heart pained--
I was fourteen
And he had given me death--
For Three minutes
My corpse got beaten still
Breath of life clouded got out of my body.
The shard edges
Touched the ache too
His memory in mind pained harder.
Screams broke out through--
I am a prisoner in my own head--
the monsters who locked me inside are my own kin.
The world outside my prison is unpredictable and petrifying--
so impeccably my monsters hold me hostage,
never leaving me out of their sight,
never letting me back to my free ground.
It's been a while since I've touched the trees,
suspired the unblemished air,
drank the exuberant water--
I think I love it here.
Agampreet Kalra is a writer and poetess from India. Her life revolves around writing, reading, staying up late, talking to her dog and drinking coffee. She write poems, blogs and short stories and some of her work has been published in Moonchild Magazine and Forthcoming will be published in An Elephant Never and The YANYR anthology of The Rhythms and Bone Lit Mag. She’s a blog contributor to Rhythms and Bones, Staff Writer for WeRedefy and Content Developer for Delhi Poetry Slam.
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