As History Repeats…

On a Saturday evening,

On a black couch,

History repeated.

 

It was the same couch,

Around the same time,

The same you,

 

Except in my place,

Wasn’t me,

But one reformed than me.

 

Behind a glass,

With a heart-lost chest,

Was I.

 

Standing there,

Watching the smiles,

Screaming tears.

 

You wouldn’t turn back,

You couldn’t see me,

Or sense beyond your rainbows.

 

Where I was,

Was dark.

Noisy. Crowded with shadows.

 

Where I was,

Was a place in between

Your past and my present.

 

Where I was,

Was a groundless marsh,

Between memories and reality.

 

Where I was,

Was a wavy ocean,

Of stark choice and ambivalence.

 

Where I was,

I couldn’t break the glass,

And enter the past,

 

Where I am,

I dare not walk in,

Through the shattered glass.

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Trap

 

One step further,

He said,

Holding out his hand to me,

Few steps ahead of me;

I walked,

Along his lead,

Then leaped,

And fell,

Head before heels;

He stood,

By the brink,

Still holding my hand;

 

I clung, on to him,

Trying to pull him, along.

The grip tightened,

He struggled,

To break free,

He loosened,

His arm,

And watched,

As I dropped,

Deep into a pit,

Of muck and thorns,

Crippled.

 

Still,

He peeps by,

As I try to heave,

My breath;

Soon,

He’ll stop,

Lurking by;

Soon,

I’ll stop,

Feeling myself.

 

 

The Box of Souvenirs

I thought,

If I gave back all those,

Gave away the little things,

That I held on to,

The little things that reminded me,

Of a time that engulfs hope,

A time, I’m reluctant to let go of,

A time, that still keeps me warm,

Amidst the tempests in my mind,

 

I thought,

If I gave back all those,

The tokens, I held on to, greedily,

The favors, the kindness, in a box,

If I gave them back to the owner,

That I would be returning

The memories that still keep me up,

That storms my mind,

In the ungodly hours.

 

Yet last night,

As I woke up to triumph,

Over the room, I’ve chased you away from,

Over a world that was mine alone;

To still find you here…

You were not in the box of souvenirs;

Or the memories, defaced and fading;

You are here,

Wherever I am.