Pratim Bishnu (10/10/1993 / Barrackpore)
As I sit still now,
so fatigued by this life,
clueless, without anywhere to go, lacking direction.
In my poetry I can’t find no rhyme,
This is crazy, its driving me out of my mind.
Tell me what to do dear for I can’t talk anymore,
this is what I was afraid of,
All the worldly things don’t compensate anymore for your absence,
this brief touch just got me closer to you.
Now, I don’t like junk food,
I see football every Sunday, but it isn’t the same.
Even Scarlett Johanson in a bikini doesn’t excite me anymore.
Now I need to tell someone to take care of themselves before I go to sleep,
In your absence I text my friends, they think I have gone gay.
I need someone to call me “Kabla” badly,
I miss that tingly feeling in my heart.
I miss someone calling me “Gadha” for no apparent reason,
I told you I hated it but there was no hate at all it was a very rich version of disguised joy.
You know I kept my phone in the left chest pocket, in those stuffy trains,
for the vibration to sync with this heart,
It felt as if you were actually there and you spoke.
I lied, I was hungry and starving in those lonely lunch breaks,
but eating would mean I couldn’t text you,
Your words were what I was hungry for.
I lied when I said I get 1500 pocket money,
I was just bragging, I barely make 500 at the most.
I still have 8 recharge cards,
bought with that saved lunch money, only for you dear.
I know that’s pathetic.
You mean more than you realize dear,
I wish you could get me like I get you.
See people don’t even get my poetry now,
they don’t understand this vocabulary, this rhyme,
but to not write for you would be a crime,
as this is all for you,
the only thing I had its yours too.
Take this life if you have to,
but I cannot bear this silence anymore,
you have your pain, I have mine too,
but I can’t tell them as its always around you.
I feel like it’s a mistake,
a dream turned nightmare,
what to do now,
how to wake up.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Things. by Pratim Bishnu )
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