You find passion in books, music and theatre but does it come anywhere close to the touch of my cold skin, the warmth of security and stability?
You see me shudder, hyperventilate, weep and yet don't stop. Your fast pace makes my heart cringe, eyes turn red and I dig my nails into my palms. Yet, I feel numb. I feel without a purpose. I feel disposed. I feel like yesterday's trash.
You see me shudder, hyperventilate, weep and yet don't stop. Your fast pace makes my heart cringe, eyes turn red and I dig my nails into my palms. Yet, I feel numb. I feel without a purpose. I feel disposed. I feel like yesterday's trash.
Oh, how you walk away from me now; your shoulders broadened and that smirk that makes me want to punch a brick wall but I'm sure will make me fall for you all over again instead.
The panic attacks will go away, nightmares will stop but that image of you distancing yourself and approaching the horizon will still make me shut my eyes in fear and grab the sheets, wanting to hold onto something and yet I feel nothing. I feel numb.
You took the sunshine-in-her eyes happy girl and turned her numb to her bones. But she will move on knowing she's past the worst phase of her life. She'll be happy. She'll be content.
Yet I'm numb. The only difference this time is that I'm numb to your change of heart, to your apologies and the dozen roses that you send every morning.
Now that you come with regret in your eyes and apologies on your tongue, remorselessly and mercilessly tearing me apart again and you realize who I am without you, Will you be numb too?
- Pooja Wath
- Pooja Wath
No comments:
Post a Comment