Invisible
Bruises
I cry and stop, and then cry
again. My own sobs become lullaby, between the bouts of pain I
sleep. An invisible cord ties my hands. I yell as if someone
pulled me by hair. I check my nose if it still spurts blood and
if forearm still hurts.
There's no redness, no cut as
such, no mark of scratch, and no abrasion on the neck but
what is it that aches now?
Even if you didn't breathe
love and never aspired me before treasures, you had sworn to
fight all odds for the sake of my happiness.
How could I condone an
eclipse spoil the halo around my sunshine that had to lit my
paths and blossom my withering buds?
How could I endure the
pain afflicted by the one who should have been a salve to
all my predicaments, and untie the knots intertwined in my
destiny? Under the stimulus of drug abuse you had forgotten
the reverence for home and relations.
Now the wheel of fortune has
turned turtle, with me in the bars of peace and you in a
disgraced grave.
Originally
published in Shout it Out, an anthology published by Lost Tower
Publications, London 2016
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