The day she refused to converse with me,
I was sad and pondered what it could be.
She passed by me without saying a hi,
Let alone bothering to say goodbye.

Her mind was filled with incessant bad thoughts,
Like ropes tied around her neck in huge knots.
Worries and doubts stayed rooted in her mind,
Grief and frustration- that's all she could find.

Unease and fearful of those snide comments
From those people whom she loathe with laments,
Soon she avoided me with suspicion-
Thought I befriended with ill intention.

When I gave her a gift to bid farewell;
A meal in which I'd got no right to dwell.
She sat furthest from me- I'm a virus.
She didn't want what I'd given-it's not hers.

Then she left quietly on her last day,
This I remembered: early part of May.
A colleague said she had left a present
Without telling me, to my amazement.

When I was given her gift later on,
I wished to apologise, but she'd gone.
Why didn't I realise sooner? It's too late
To cry over spilled milk. Perhaps that's fate.

The agony was too much
and the memories suffocated
her until she could not breathe.

For two months she found herself
in a hospital, for she thought
seeking Death would be

a better choice. Jagged red
lines smiled at her
cunningly from her own wrists.

The doctors, nurses and her family
kept her far away from
her best friend, a sharp

point dripping in crimson.
She wondered where it was;
if she was going to see

it again. For days, she
slept and wished
she could sleep forever.

But one day she was told
by the doctor
there was nothing more to be

done to keep her from
thinking the bad thoughts,
except to prescribe drugs

to make her either numb
or fine for a while.
So she went back home,

back to the empty spaces,
back to those horrible memories-
that time of the year

she could not forget, no matter how
she tried to push them to
the back of her mind. Then

she found the farewell letter
she had written two months ago,
meaning to say goodbye

and never, ever come back.
She read it and the agony
came back once again.

It was too much and
the memories suffocated her,
until she could not breathe.

THEN

You were a pillar, sturdy and tall.
I desperately clung onto you.
Dependent, naive and still young,
I was ignorant to the fact that you
woke up too early and came back too late.

Until one day you collapsed
in front of me
and I fell along with you.

My fault, my fault, my fault.

Those bleak nights with your absence,
I stared into the darkness that seemed
to stretch for eternity.
I could not stop my cheeks from getting wet;
that saltiness that seeped into
the corners of my mouth.

No. I could not stay like this forever.
I need to change.
I need to be independent, because I'd
lost you.
I don't want to lose you
any further.

NOW*

You were once my anchor
to keep me from sinking.
Yet I've learnt to stand
on my own two feet.
You have finally returned,
but you are no longer as strong
as before.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay.*

You are shrinking- more bones
are protruding.
You move slowly, meticulously,
as though relearning how to
walk again.
I admire your resilience;
your diligence to get better.
No more waking up too early
and coming back too late.

We are both aging, yet
your rate of getting sunken cheeks
and sagging skin appears
to speed up too fast,
too soon.

If time could rewind, I want you
back to when you were still
tall and radiant, and that
I would get a chance to love you
more- I would not be a burden
to you, then.

What has been done cannot be undone.
So I embrace the changes
and learn to love you
in the present and many
years to come.

Thank you for being my pillar.

Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and from moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

I wish I'd known my expiry date.
Everyday, the clock ticks away,

counting down the seconds
to the day I can bid farewell

to this world. A worthless girl
soon to disappear, like a

spark that dies off when the
fuel runs out. I'm a piece

that does not fit right into
a puzzle. I'm a wanderer

longing for a resting place.
Perhaps it is better to say

goodbye now than to live
a life of hurt and emptiness.

When can I finally get to leave?

A drug is not like a candy
Displayed in a grocery store.
It's just a short-term remedy

To control your symptoms quickly.
I think you would have heard before-
A drug is not like a candy.

Ever heard of drug allergy-
Like rashes or blisters which tore?
It's just a short-term remedy

Not to cure disease totally.
Some take it like everyday's chore.
A drug is not like a candy

To rid pain and make you happy.
Think of those side effects and more!
It's just a short-term remedy.

Try to learn pharmacology,
I bet you will find it a bore.
A drug is not like a candy;
It's just a short-term remedy.

Words travelled from mouth to ear

behind cupped hands.
                                                                   Hush!

someone reprimanded. Not so loud!

                                                           I

know, another voice said.

                                     Can

you stop pinching me?

                   Hear

me out! This so and so...

You

are brilliant! Let's

spread this juicy

news and put

the blame and

shame on

her.