It’s summer
June’s reign is just over.
The sun is flooding
Through the shades,
Casting unnatural shadows—
through the blades of the blinds
Playing shadow games
Against my curves.
It is caressing my arms,
Drawing lines across my stomach,
Wrapping around my sun-kissed legs,
Touching all
but my face.
As I lay here,
Half-naked and free,
While The sun dances with me,
I feel… nothing—
Sorrow now fills the room,
like the slow, thick drift
of a Cuban cigar—
sweet, smoky,
and suffocating.
Spilling from the dark side of
my face;
the ‘ache’ lingers around
Just like
The decaying scent of my
Wretched soul….
This scent of death…
The death of who I used to be.
Sadness turns into pity
As the ego leaves the room
I now remember
How I pretended not to see/Their sins!
For how I turned a blind eye,
Just to survive!
The ghost of the pretends
Sneaking up behind the hourglass
Sand is piling up fast—
I begin to feel everything:
The pain of the past,
The lies disguised as love,
The fear behind the pretending,
The hurt and the hope,
The trauma, the heartbreak,
And—
The healing.
Let me go, let me go, let me go—
I can’t stay here another second.
I know it now.
This is the end.
And I am taking my happiness…
Yes, I will take the painfully quiet whispers of my sorrowful soul too…
And I leave behind the masks, the trials, the blames…
Beril Yabar
