Memoirs of a Survivor

I still have those marks-
Some in the shape of clouds,
The sooty ones which bring the thunder
And others like the curl of lips,
Reminding me of the day I met you.
Oh! That smile, your beastly smile;
I shouldn’t have fallen for your tricks.
Today, ringed by women with similar anguish,
Hearing their stories whilst I wish, I wish-
Maybe we shouldn’t meet for a long, long time,
Maybe I’d forget all about your heinous crimes.

 

I dreamt of a world tainted with red-
Bangles, Lehengas, vermilion.
How much I loved that shade!
But the color of love gave me hate instead.
I still shudder at the sight of blades,
They bring back to me the vision of your face.
Those red eyes, the smell of alcohol in your breath.
Your face, all smeared with hate.
Now, each time I look at my wrists and thighs,
I curse my life with infinite whys-
Maybe we shouldn’t meet for a long, long time.
Maybe I’d become less traumatized.

I’m slowly trying to heal everything,
From scars upon my soul to bruises on my skin.
I’ve been trying to free from this cage of agony,
From the shackles of a past that stings.
I’d like to live without being a victim to duress,
With a life without emotions repressed.
Sitting by the porch all through the day,
A hint of hope twinkling through my eyes, I pray, I pray-
Maybe we shouldn’t meet for a long, long time.
Maybe I’d forget what pain feels like.
Maybe I’d become less traumatized.
Maybe I’d forget all about your crimes.

 

 


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