I’m so tired of pining over
someone who’s not here,
thinking dreaming will help her
materialize and waltz right up to
me when I’m ambling down the sidewalk,
the stars don’t align in the right places
and there aren’t these special places
reserved for the ‘precious’ moments of life,
I’ve gradually lost the will to hope
for a life better than this unfortunate
incessant accident on repeat in which some
car of despair careens into a careless me
and wrecks even a semblance of a sense of self,
I’m also so exhausted from all this whining
and so, I’m switching my tongue off,
treating it like a grainy-screened, screechy TV
and using a needle and thread to sew my lips shut,
it’s up to you to interpret if I meant that figuratively or
literally, but how does it matter? I’m ugly as hell

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)

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