TRIGGER WARNING: SU*CIDE
Chrysanthemum set on the grave of my life,
That blossom shouldn’t honour you, far from description.
Representing my worst part, irony at its crest,
Shouting with my inner resolve, and yet not having the privilege to forge ahead.
Helpless cries and impotent anger led me to your headstone.
Another nail in that coffin,
Prior to infusing it with forgiveness,
Am I to omit or to attain?
Or just go around with my gain?
Losing a soul, is already hard enough,
But to lose someone so hard by me?
Now I’m here, standing on your doorstep,
With a hope to see your face behind,
peeking through the peephole,
Alas, there wasn’t a single soul,
The deepening void in my heart,
And the evocative doorbell which used to chime turned to the haunting sound of knell.
Filled with regrets, longing and yearning to go back in time to make your angst fade away,
And crush those thoughts and hold your hand,
Cease those crestfallen times and make way,
But all I have is a chrysanthemum at hand and a rue pipe dream.
-Ananya Madan
Instagram: @ananyamadan_
