By Aditi Sayil
I have fleeting dreams,
Of the life I had,
Had, not 'lived.'
I smile on the surface,
To hide the harrowing anguish,
Disdain I have of myself.
Every passing second, minute, hour, day,
I neither know, nor am I aware,
Of what made me lose my way.
Slowly memories flood,
It's torrent a revolting migraine,
Nostalgia crept in,
It’s claws gnawing on my tender wounds.
My brain burns,
Like a live body catching fire,
As I wriggle out of memories,
Misery, apathy and then, nothing.
Dreams are- friends
On a late evening, watching sunset,
In a cafe, chatting worries away,
Smiles that make tears vanish,
Hands held into an enticing eternity
Dreams are foes,
When eyes open,
Thrusting with reality
If hands weren't held,
There wasn't a cafe chat either.
Dreams are sinister,
They make me meet,
The past version of myself,
A known stranger, a lone wolf,
Strange, I whisper,
I do not remember myself,
Nor I ever will.
By Aditi Sayil
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