If it was meant to last, it would have.

The last time I saw you was the day I get the first tattoo.

Sorry, it does not say anything about falling in love

but about what to hold on to as we hit the ground when it gets over.

No matter where did the tattoo artist put the ink,

it was only within my chest that hurt like the million needles.

The tattoo artist assured that the wound

will heal soon and the design will take over.

I wondered how much time it will take

for the wounds which you slashed into my skin

in the last five years.

You ringed my mother to tell that it’s better that I move on

as my bones are aging, while all this time I was praying

that they do so with you by my side.

That night my mother made me sit in a chair

and told me that I do not have to take shit from anyone

especially those who can’t see past my mouth or my eyes or

my long thin hair and past my skin into the beating heart.

She is religious so she told me how god 
in the middle of good things suddenly wrecks our plan

when they are about to wreck us.

Now I don’t want to be a memory but a burden

so heavy on your shoulders that

you.

cant.

walk.

At the late hours of  the following nights, 
tossing in my bed I find myself

taking a trip down the memory lane, 
visiting all the ghosts left behind.

I am haunted by your name -four letters-

that was once my favourite word on the planet

is now like an ice cube on my tongue.

I spit it. I spit it. I spit it.

And I sleep myself to spitting it and a lot other things.

I wake up and leave in the morning

with every synonym of feeling heavy and

thankfully no hand to hold,

that has been strangling my pretty life.

After work I go to market and buy new lip colors

but dammit they do not sell any shade of forgiveness.

All this while the sun didn’t stop to set,

neither had it stopped to rise.

Through my window, each morning it shines on my face,

as if gently reminding me I am still someone worth shining on.

And this is it probably.

If we weren't able to be permanent,

at least now I have something that will.

Sunday Ke Sunday

Today unknowingly I happened to bump into Sunday or let’s say he bumped into me.

I woke up while I didn’t wish to. The bathroom was just beginning to stop spinning and my feet were starting to feel steady on the ground. Sunday hurriedly came to me and he handed his hand. It took me some time to realize it’s for shaking. You know it takes time. And time fleets in a special way on Sundays.

 "Give Monday my love" he said, 

waving and flashing a smile at me.