The girl reframes her fears as strength,
She is scared to go out and then she claims It’s danger,
She is scared of real intimacy and then she says they all want the same.
The girl wants to recalibrate but she is stuck in a bad memory that told her she wasn’t loved but exploited,
She wants to move forward but she keeps repeating attracting the same who wants her body not her soul.
She wants to whisper her soul’s story but she couldn’t find anyone who can listen to her thoughts,
But, it seems she is looking for something miraculous.
But, whatever finds her way somehow comes out to be malicious.
She looks into the infinity and it seems to her it’s her imagination,
She is happy in her
bubbles of imaginations.
She is safe there.
No harm.
No delusions.
But, now at the end of the day, she understands the demons
of her imagination are eating her- alive in a grotesque manner,
Gradually and slowly, she is turning grey-
An assemblage of sophisticated shrouds shrugged with peace and nightmares.
She screams her lungs out for a connection,
But, she avoids the same that suffocates her in silence.
She has been living in a fortress, and she kept telling herself- It’s safe.
There is a little ounce of hope and removal of despair.
But days come and go,
Life moves on in its rhythm,
Some days she is successful,
Some days she is not,
But, each busy hustling day, she remains the same-
the undivided, unattended, uncrushable soul.
She says she is perfect.
Crushing down under the weight of her work,
Under the rubble of daily affairs,
Some days she believes she needs a companion,
The other day, she is scared of reptilians and scorpions.
They keep returning in cycles,
Before the arrival,
And, after departure.
She is scared of the pauses after the runtimes and showdowns.
She doesn’t want to go slow, nor does she want to run faster.
She is loving her pace and space,
And her own speed,
She was attacked with spades and shades,
Now, she doesn’t rush towards the hues of blue and silver linings of the rainbow prisms.
You know Adrian,
Some people live by their tragedy,
Sorrows give them strength,
The gloomy morning brought by mourning is then turned around with bronze golden sun rays,
They have recognized the patterns,
Their inner rhythm,
They know when and what they feel,
They have a set of rules and roles to play.
In their bounds, they are stuck,
In their minds, they escape-
In the imaginary grass field where they live freely in love and fiery passion.
The cold nights turn into blazing fire in the woods-
Two sparrows started kissing eternally, knowing this flame would burn them forever.
©® Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy
Timestamp: 2.06 pm, T-4