Sometimes we never know
what to say at times like these;
just hollow thoughts
roaring through a hollow body
that didn’t want the awkward silences
to be their legacy.

Depression doesn’t care for
the size of your bank account,
or tire from how many laps you can run.
It doesn’t care how bright the sun is
or who holds you in each night.
Depression sneers at all those photographs
lined upon your bedside table.
It won’t ask to use your emotions
to taint them and everything
that may hold some light to the dark.

For a few months,
you’ll think you’re making progress;
don’t fool yourself,
You haven’t even started.
Everything will smell like him.
Your pillow,
your clothes,
even the air.
You'll even still have their cards and photos
lined upon your bedside table.
You'll get drunk,
and you'll send them poems you wrote,
and songs that remind you of them.  
They'll tell you you’re a good writer,
and this will be the last real thing
they ever say to you.
You'll find you won't be able to write
if it's not about them,
they still plague your mind,
your thoughts,
and your dreams.
The first poem you write that’s not about them
will feel like victory at last.
It won’t be.
They'll always find a way
to slither back into your words.
Your friends will keep listening to you weep,
as they weep over the one that got away too.
They come and go in the middle of your favorite songs,
between each beat you see their smile,
and their beauty in every piece of art;
their beauty in every stroke.
Whenever someone asks you what your favorite color is,
you just want to say 'their eyes'.
They light up like a lake in twilight,
like the moon you shared your first kiss below.
You'll want to go back there for closure.
You still haven’t done it yet.
You aren’t ready to let go.
If you do go you know it'll only make it worse.
And for the rest of your life,
you will be hoping to meet someone
as magical as them.
Every soul that catches your eye,
you won’t really be looking at them.
You’ll be searching for them.
You’ll never find them again.

Through the
Peepholes of
Your eyes,
I can see
Your soul,
And I can't
Wait to love
it.

//Soul

-Sayali Parkar

you’re my sunday morning
the feeling of sleeping past sunrise
waking up with a smile
you’re my first cup of coffee
when the rooster calls
my only hopes of getting through the day
you’re my lemonade
on a scorching august day
ice clinking in the glass with each refreshing drink
you give me a reason to believe that
even though “people always leave”
some are always meant to stay

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

I dealt death today.

I know it’s a part of the job.
I know I’ve seen it too many times to count.
But today,
I felt it.

I left the room long after their family did.
There was no where I could go
To escape their

Roaring grief.

They were long gone.
And I was left with their precious baby.
I curled his arms and legs up
Closed his eyes
Wrapped him up gently.
With love and respect
Here he’ll sleep forever.

And oh,
They are so thankful,
That it was me
That I understood
That I was so careful
That I spent the time with them.

And you’re not supposed to take it with you.
You’re supposed to leave it
When they walk out the door
With one less goodbye.

But I took it with me today.

The way they felt before
The way they felt after
The long quiet goodbyes
The man in a suit on his knees weeping
The mother and son making a cocoon
Sheltering their dying baby.
The solemn face of the woman who plays god.
The green death.
The last breath.
The heaving of the living as he gave his last.
The waiting.
Slower rhythm.
Quieter.
‘He’s gone now’.

I watched the clock
The same way I had
An hour before
Waiting for death.

Soon as I could
I fled out the door
Ran into the street
Tried to outrun it

Instead I ran to you
I dialled your number
With shaking hands

I know I’m not supposed to
But all I wanted was you
Your voice

Ringing out
Thankfully
I wept alone.

Today I dealt death
And I found I am not strong enough
To sustain this
Alone
Or for long.

I found I still consider you my haven
Deep down
But that you are not my haven anymore
Or should be.

I listened to the silence
After the call rang out
And decided