You staggered through the double doors,
a trail of red on bleached-out floors.
The night was humming, wet and mean,
your busted life in Trauma Green.

I clamped your vein, soft as thread,
and dared the gods to count their dead.
You lay there broken, no ID,
just blood and ache and urgency.

Your heart fell quiet
inside my hand,
as if it paused to understand.
Then breath returned in stuttered moans.
your chest arched up to meet my own.

The wound was sealed.
Your sigh came slow.
You could have left.
You didn’t, though.
The sweat still clung.
Your gaze went slack.
You pulled the gown and turned your back.

I saw you later, checkout nine:
frozen dinners, boxed red wine.
You seemed like someone death forgot,
barely awake, missing the plot.

You looked right through. You didn’t know
the hands that pulled you from below.
You don’t remember. I can’t forget
how thin the stitch, how deep the debt.

I trespassed through many lives,
some of them mine,
yours most of all.

Being young
does not excuse,
only shows how long
I've known better.

I thought breaking
was just another way
to change shape.
I mistook leaving
for becoming.

You stayed.
You learned to sleep
on a wet pillow.
I know.
I brought the storm
and called it weather.

You wake.
You endure.
You build a life
where I am a name,
a story you no longer tell.

You rise
like someone who had to.
I vanish,
like someone who chose to.

I see it.
Even now.

And I wonder
what it cost you
to stay kind
to the memory
of me.

Don't worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.

I am in love with tomorrow
The one where I swim oceans,
Write at a bistro in Paris,
Drown my sorrows in Bombay rains.

I never thought that I could
Drink morning coffee when hungover.
I have never thought that a compromise
Can taste so good.

I didn’t want to consider different me
I thought I have lost myself with you.
I didn’t know her,
But you did.

I keep doing it to myself.
This pain is better than not having you at all.
I like having you in me,
And I’m the only one who knows it.

Calm and stress at the same time.
I need shivers to enjoy,
But of course you knew that.
You have read me, and suddenly I can’t read anymore.

Conversations in my head,
Disappointed in my own stories.
I pretend that I don’t like to be with you,
But when you’re not around, I don’t have me.

You left me dry,
Because you were dry before you met me.
I wish we had more time to get wet.

When they told me love should be easy,
They didn’t know that it is easy to walk together in the darkness.
I wish we had more time to wait for the morning,
But all we had were nights.

I keep doing it to myself

Life is loss, pain
You move on, push past it
You write subroutines to deal
To ease, to distract, to bypass
Again and again until
You are more subroutine
Than you are yourself
And you wonder
At what point did pain
Become more relevant
To life
Than living?