she was careful
she was vigilant
but despite what appeared smart choices
all her relationships have turned out the same
bad luck, kept coming at her in different faces
in different names
perhaps, this thing called love wasn’t meant for her
she’s been silent
not the kind that liked to tell others her hurts
but this thing she’s bottled is acidic
the longer she keeps it sealed
the rustier her inner joy gets
she hadn’t gotten the courage to kill herself
though she’s been brooding it over for long
suddenly, an idea occurs to her
she would travel far far away
live in a new place where no one knows her
she doesn’t mind if it’s a remote village
so long as the flies and prying eyes criticizing her wounds do not grow there
like the wild shoots that they are here
and so she rises
leaving behind the bustling south
heads into the hinterland
where she hopes those living there
haven’t been infected with the virus of greed, bitterness and disloyalty
where she hopes to finally put a lid on a screaming past
searching for solitude and inner peace that inspires a new great beginning
Leave a Reply