The last letter

When death knocks at my door, would I know it mother?
Would death be familiar, draped in soothing obsidian voids, the call of death a lullaby I have heard since flowers grew in my aching ribcage?
Would death be kind to me?

When the ledge releases me, would you finally hold me dear, mother—
Would it be enough for you to cradle my body close?

When you hear of the news, my friend,
would you spill your tears and taste a longing regret on your lips?
I feel the familiar coldness enclosing, and I can't be sorry, But I'd rather not wake up.

When death finds me, would you say it was love?
Would I be enough then?

And I feel it is coming mother, as familiar as the turns of street to our house, It is coming, covered in mists, hollow eyes; reeking of death, the smell of earth.

The mist shrouds me, it's time to go.

The following day
I saw,
a world draped in sinister shades, man walking the streets with his head held high, they walk past me with a dazed smile on their deceiving masks,
unaware of the blood staining their hands, the edges of their gruesome smiles, the rot eats away at their souls.
The chaos unfolds with a bated breath,
the silent tears, it drips onto the marble with an unstoppable force.

I looked up to find it is my friend, oh dear,
Face crumpled in agony, hair mused and tears tracks marring their cheeks.
It saddens me to see them beating their fists against their chest, their remorseful cries of "I am so sorry" echo around the silent graveyard.
A cry of undeterred pain reaches me,
I looked back, And there.
what birthed me, on her knees,
Chest heaving.

The crowd sings a tune of sorrow,
"The ravens bow as I pass,
In respect,
In resignation,
In acceptance.
May the reaper sing my soul to mercy, May death be kinder than life ever was."

I looked to see a shroud draping me, the darkness bowing in respect to the last of what was left of me,
the smile that escapes me is a slash of scar amongst my pallid.
It reaches me again— the howl of pain, so strong and potent and I feel something terrible breaking inside the hearts of those who watch,
The woman lays hunched over, barely breathing,
The pleas of "come back" reached from a distance, but it's too late.

And a small hand breaks my line of sight, a child that resembles me, How familiar the call is, but I can't recognise the feeling inside of you.
The little being houses a perplexed frown, draped in yellows and pinks,
a bright ray of light amongst the sullen greys,
A heart too ripe to see it all, and yet they stay beside my beaten figure,

I look away, and saw my own hand, over where my heart previously was
To realize my soul has died yesterday,
before tearing the last page of my notebook, before reaching the pen lying at the table corner, even before doing the thing I loved the most, writing a letter.

Only the body left.
To burn and mourn.
To burn and mourn.
Even though a moment of serenity(dying) would fail to undo an eternity of damage.

dressed to be undressed// tujhse naraz nhi zindagi, hairaan hu mai

she slides the dress on
like the new layer of skin on her body
hoping this time,
it wouldn't just slip off at their touches
or thrown away torn and feeble
shattered like her own body in the corner
her bones are tired of being crushed underneath
her eyes drying out of tears to cry

the tip of eyeliner pencil stabs a few fuzzy memories
a young girl, ready to conquer the world
who believed she was a goddess
who had no makeup, no fancy dresses
but wore her skin like the priciest attire
she was proud of herself, even in the rags

a lone tear slips down her glossed cheeks
wiping it away, she wipes away the train of memories

they would be here soon, she is reminded
her hands move along the rehearsed routine
but the difficult part is the smile
to urge her lips to form the curve
even though it is, along with her, long dead

she has no soul left
its just the body that needs to be fed
she puts on a new skin everyday
to please the men, who once called her a goddess
she is the prey to these hungry savages
every night she covers her dead self in cosmetic
and is ??????? ?? ?? ?????????.

It's been years.
But still,
The coldness in my heart hasn't clouded away.
I cross paths in the same place
Over and over again
Yet I couldn't change the narrative of my story.

Those hectic times where
I cried in the corridor.
Longer list of dues
End-line after end-line
Crumpled paper of notes
It all faded in vain.

Some say things happen for a reason.
Others said I should have pushed harder.
In the middle of constant expectation and
My struggle to prove them
I failed to protect myself.

I search for myself in every new phase of life.
Questioning: Where did it all go wrong?
Everyone asked me to move on.
But I still don't know where I'm stuck.

Never-ending darkness of this bruised past is an additive quench of taste
I couldn't avoid

Though I breathe through this self-doubt,
And cry for acceptance on every level.
I couldn't call this a trauma.
Because I loved it once.

somedays i look into the mirror and see
the ghost of a woman i promised not to be
and i remember
those limpid eyes that remained listless
even when her child screamed in agony;
two-toned lips that never uttered
a word of concern or consolation
but sung along to mellow rhythms
to please some infallible entity

somedays i look into the mirror and see
the ghost of a woman i promised not to be
and i remember
those scorching hands that struck me
till my limbs went numb and my skin crimson;
that forced me to push and grovel
till my wounds bled dry, the prospect
of walking out the door to never return
no longer comeuppance, but rather solace.

somedays i look into the mirror and see
the ghost of a woman i promised not to be
and i remember
all the quarrels and screaming fights
and the sleepless nights contemplating
an alternate universe where dawn
would break with a smile on the horizon,
instead of stormy skies that spanned out
for days with no end in sight.

somedays i look into the mirror and see
the ghost of a woman i promised not to be
and i remember
the fear, desperation and apprehension
clouding every breathing moment
and shudder at the thought of being
forced to live such a life all over again.
and so i plunge my arms into the mirror
till the vision crumbles into non-existence
until the shards no longer reflect
the resentment looming in those' eyes.

It started of easy, foamy and steady, the waves pulling her in closer, in the depth of the ocean.
She didn't bother considering the depth of it, she was too mesmerized by the chances of her feeling this way.
It kept pulling her in day by day, her not noticing that she's slowly been drowning.
She tells everyone around her to keep away, but why doesn't she notice the light frown on her face.
It's pushing her now, the ocean that is, it's pulling her in and now she's stuck that is.
With a barrier between the world and her, she constantly shifts from the world to the ocean.
which depth of the ocean holds her peace? what's kept in it that holds her together?
Every step she took closer, slowly and gradually the ropes of the world started unraveling.
Her reach to the world was no longer there, she then sat there again in despair.

Something came rising from the depths of the ocean, told her to calm down and just keep down the commotion.
Stay put, stay still, calm down someone repeated, and somehow the contact to the world was back in her reaches.
Having control over both of the places, she's steady, still and calmed down her paces.
She looked all around her so confused with these emotions, just for her to notice the one who reached out to her wasn't just the ocean.
Someone who actually felt it before, someone who needed someone else before.
Right infront of her stood the shadow, it wasn't dark or scary but still and staring.
Noticing the sense of empathy, feeling the peace the ocean once brought her, she immediately covered her arms around him, noticing she's slowly melting across him.