Who am I
that I must be loved
so exquisitely,
excruciatingly
by the dead
and the living?
Who am I
that I deserve to be
the cause,
the effect
of this anguish
that pulls apart
fraying sutures
of a repeatedly worn-out heart?
Who am I-
An ice sculpture,
Commended for beauty
and loved hastily
by those who
anticipate
its melting.
Are those not tears ?
The wetness of my being
that melts as ..
They wait in horror
(or is it delight?)
For me to drip away
into fluid nothingness.
To prove I am alive.
(For ice-sculptures are animate only if they drip.)
But wait,
There is no flow,
and hence,
there must be an absence of life,
The steady
v
a
n
i
s
h
i
n
g
is
Unexpected.
Chaos.
'It was never alive!'
'Deception!'
My secrets remain undiscovered,
Trapped in forgotten melody
and lost biscuit boxes.
'Dry Ice.'
says the one that knew me
and smiling lopsidedly,
reasserts his statement-
'They still don't know squat about you.'
that I must be loved
so exquisitely,
excruciatingly
by the dead
and the living?
Who am I
that I deserve to be
the cause,
the effect
of this anguish
that pulls apart
fraying sutures
of a repeatedly worn-out heart?
Who am I-
An ice sculpture,
Commended for beauty
and loved hastily
by those who
anticipate
its melting.
Are those not tears ?
The wetness of my being
that melts as ..
They wait in horror
(or is it delight?)
For me to drip away
into fluid nothingness.
To prove I am alive.
(For ice-sculptures are animate only if they drip.)
But wait,
There is no flow,
and hence,
there must be an absence of life,
The steady
v
a
n
i
s
h
i
n
g
is
Unexpected.
Chaos.
'It was never alive!'
'Deception!'
My secrets remain undiscovered,
Trapped in forgotten melody
and lost biscuit boxes.
'Dry Ice.'
says the one that knew me
and smiling lopsidedly,
reasserts his statement-
'They still don't know squat about you.'
"What are you smiling about?Its not funny, she's v-a-n-i-s-h-i-n-g and you must do something to stop it!"
ReplyDelete"I can't. Why should I bother about you all? I know a lot about her and thats all that matters to me."
"Fine. Quit being unproductive and all misty. Pass that sack of salt, i must try and slow down this process of sublimation."
"No one orders me around here. You get it yourself. But remember, her body is covered with wounds. Salt might slow the process but it'll sting her a lot. It can get worse than just vanishing away."
"I'll still do it. I must do it. I would have done if it were you. You have helped her open the trapdoor of insignificance, you forgot to hand out the cautionary note about the never ending path of self-pity. She must signify herself for herself, by herself."
"Well, stop being melodramatic. She is doing that. Writing down the process before the actual thing happens might be an important act of signification."
"I don't want the process to start. I don't want to know her secrets. I just don't want her to leave forever. Sublimated people are just not there and I won't be able to deal with her absence."