poems

Storms of Me

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The voices resonating inside the four walls
now echoes inside my body,
shifting their trajectory,
changing shapes and atoms,
as they get compressed and louder.
What a room once contained
is now held by my body.

My bones churn and break,
they crash into each other,
as the echoes enter the cracks,
like storm evading a city.
Maybe that is what happens when you brim things with voices,
they become noises,
while I am just a human.

Mother always asked me to be strong.
So when I met January,
he wanted to be the last one to wish me birthday,
sending a fine voice note over Facebook.
While I sat like a carcass typing “thank you so much,”
as my mind shunned him as another man
putting me on a scale.
Which one weighs more,
love or lust.

I think he couldn’t figure out which,
as the echoes did not reach the passion in my heart,
which lay young and wild
just like love,
guarding the gates on my skin.

Strange,
how people don’t stay
but their stories and lessons do,
as each day,
I cut open my skin,
filling the world with words trapped inside me.

Strange,
how I become a hurricane
while I am just an island on the sea.

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