I Let Him

One of the 

first few monuments I built

from my own words were 

to bury the you which 

was never mine. Sugar coated 

needles clinging from your promises-

my lungs wondered, was the air

bloodier as I breathed you in?

Coloured pages torn from 

scrapbooks, my brushes thought

I could paint you mine with 

scarlet roses and hand-written 

happy birthdays. Lunch breaks,

my legs climbed seven floors 

everyday to get a glimpse of you 

but you walked away. I

took shade under the midnight 

lamp as my shadow hung onto

questions that your bones could

never answer. You opened the door

which only led to a sweet disaster.

Those brown almond eyes gently 

walked me through abandoned rooms,

hugged me in quiet corners but as

the lights began flickering, you tore me

to shreds and left, a flawed art no one

could ever master. A wind-chime

clinking in cold air, four years spent 

singing, hoping to make you stay. You 

were just a fleeting bird and I will

never be your amber-violet sky. I 

look back, the moon kisses my 

forehead, the scars you carved are

now where I plant my roses. 

Written in response to poem 'Relationship Advice to a Younger Self' by Aditi Rao