I sit there
Not tired
Not happy
Just stunned.
The smoke from his cigarette stub
Is still filled in the room.
My ears don’t ache
But there is an echo
Of sorts
Or is it a siren
I hear
The one which that van had…
Parked across the road
Two days ago.
I sit
Intact
As if my spine is rooted to the ground
He hasn’t left
I hear his chappals squeak
Ah the squeak!!
The warmth of his palm
Is still on my ears
Funny how the left one
Which was not even slapped
Hurts even more
When you are hurt
It pains me
Mom told so to me
Is my left ear
Mom to my right ear?
Crazy he called me.
Crazy he calls me everyday.
But it is he who does crazy
He tore my blouse
And hurt my chest.
He kissed me
With cigarette mouth
And I vomited
He beat
Me
Black and blue
And kissed me again.
This time his moustache
Pricked my upper lip
The smoke from the cigarette has gone
So has the squeak from those
Chappals
He once threw them at me
It had a bubblegum stuck to its bottom
I picked it out
And tasted it
He laughed
Called me crazy
Mom said when I am hungry
I eat whatever I get
But where is mom
She is missing
The house no longer
Smells of her
All I can now smell is
The smoke from
Cigarettes
He comes again
And kicks me
I don’t move
For I am rooted
Calls me crazy
And bangs his head
On the door
I pick up the cigarette stub
And chew it
Tastes horrible
He kicks me again
This time
I hold his leg
With my mouth
My teeth dug into his calf
He cries
I don’t leave him
The flesh tastes good
I like the way his leg smells
And also, the taste of his skin
My teeth go deeper
And his cry grows feeble
He tries to hold my mouth
Comments & Discussion
5 COMMENTS
Please login to read members' comments and participate in the discussion.