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Mar 2016 · 262
Slave To Old Habits
Nuzra Fathima Mar 2016
I don’t know how I grew up
To be the type of woman
who carried more salt and scars in her bloodstream
rather than mist or deep blue rivers .
I knew mother taught me better,
But I wore your absence like a metal chain around my neck
and I learnt to sew my lips and let my hands do the talking instead.
I kept wishing for the day my tongue
would forget the way your name curled around it .
and my head never understood how to stop spinning around you,
"it’s okay to tell him ,
Don’t move away,stay."
I don’t remember
When I turned into the kind of woman
Who spends her days mocking the way she loves
And keeps rushing back to the past like
It’s the only home she's ever known.
Maybe you wish I don’t keep repeating
the same old sorrows
I wish it too.
But I have to let you know
That there is life beating in small doses
Of my reluctant heart which allows me
To love gloriously, unapologetically, unconditionally
And there is freedom in knowing that
And purpose
Which came of loving you.
So, forgive me for each time I choose you
For I don't know how not to.
#poem

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