The doorbell rang at the wrong time , its 1:20 am now and I know it's him. I pretended to not hear the bell,he started yelling my name and am certain that if am not opening the door now , it would create a scene.
"What you want now.?" "Please , let me in . I want to talk to you." "Too late for explanation" " Not explanation, please allow me to speak" " Its your wedding day !!!!" "I know , thats why I came now . You hate me for sure , lets keep in that way only . I love you. I will miss you . " "I stared him as not knowing how to respond to that. He hold my hand and kissed me vividly. Neither I pushed him back nor asked him to stop kissing me. Because I longed for this . Once again it felts like our first kiss ; terrible yet beautiful.
He untied my hair while pressing his soft lips with mine. His lips on mine felts like melting cotton candy. I throwd my arm to the back of his head and he pulled me closer. He is kissing me in such a way that the all the hurt , pain is wiped off when his lips is brushing over mine. My eyes remained shut after the kiss , I dont know whether this is wrong or not or am just overthinking too much. For a moment , we are just staring at each other . We felt akward or may be just me. He moved to sit on the bed but I want to hold his hand and ask him to kiss me again but words didnt form .
" Why does your lips tastes like rasberry.?" "It's the lipstick." "Ohh shit , finally but why." I dont have answer for that. Months ago , he gifted me a lipstick without knowing I don't use make up products neither lipbalm or lipstick even though he insisted me for a while. I didnt agree up on that but for some reason I didn't throw it off. "What are you thinking ?" Wind chimes resonates as the silence overlapped between us. "Can you sing any song." This time I didnt say 'no' because I never ever tried to hum any song after his death. "Which.?" " Any of your favourites.!?"
"Hum tum kitne paas hain Kitne door hain chaand sitare Sach poochho to man ko Jhoote lagte hain yeh saare..."
"Holy fuckkkk. This is damn." I blushed. Sometimes he half finishes his sentence and I never asked to complete it.
I sat on his lap. I squeezed myself to get inside his sweatshirt to embrace his warmess. His skin was a soft attack on my fleece. We laid down . He buried his face on my neck. I caressed his hair while counting his breathe . I can feel how his lung fills the air , each time he breathe. He denued me like a voyyager unwraps his map to navigate him.
He dripped kisses on my nape , satisfying his drought while I poured the remnants of self love on his. "You write poetry but you are wholesome a poem" His lips knitted the bruises of my wounds; the wound is no longer a thorn but a sunflower.
He peeled off my acne filled muscles ; by radiating the hycanith honey from his tendons.
The crystalline asphalt of hope became molten and oozed through the pores of dead locust.
He looked at the watch. Ohh shit it's 5 am ! I should leave now. He put on his clothes and I laid there naked holding a hurricane pain inside a smile and wished him 'Happy Marriage Life.'
The coffee beans in my room have restrained from brewing up and the sun denied to rise from the window settled at the corner of my decaying closet, and there's this feeling of the end chasing after me only when I realized beginning of it, that I'm afraid to sail a single step outside these four naked walls. Everyone around me is stitching their stories and I'm here, right at the edge of an epilogue of mine.
I used to catch fireflies with my bare hands on some bleak evenings, they often liberated their last breathe in my palms, but nobody knew I fathomed burying corpses in graveyards just like I wrapped my dead emotions into a morgue after being fascinated by what autumn does to its leaves.
The dreams that twinkle within me are what the stars would've recited if the skies were painted by Van Gogh everyday. But my eyes are still crooning about the phases of moon that people are afraid to face. The stains on my lips are midnight memories that I've pasted on forgotten ballads and I carry them in my pocket when the teacher asks me to not be a traitor anymore. Every mistake of mine is floating on the tears that I've rained yesterday and the biggest mistake that I commit is when my hands tremble to turn the next page of life and I wonder if today is favourable enough to die. ~Purva
#journal in caption #mirage_poetry_contest haiku's in bg based on the topic suicide. To those reading this know that you're not alone and suicide is never a solution to any problem. I know it's not easy to share your pain, I know people usually don't understand what you're going through but J.K Rowling said help is given to those who ask for it (modified). Talk about it because the sun rises everyday and you've got one life don't let it drown easily.