Blood On My Hands Poem by O Sudhir Janardhanan

She was going on twenty, not yet sixteen
The first time we had sex, she was just a teen
It happened, all in a rush, in an instant
Over it was, all in a flash, in a moment
There was so much blood around
I just did not know, what had happened around
On her prone face, a conspirator's smile, played on her lips
I had looked down; I had blood, on my hands…

There was no irony playing within
A pregnancy aborted, tossed out a life from in
The decision did not take forever
The blood seemed to not end ever
It just happened, as it should have never
I made promises false, that did hold me never
Her poignant smile announced, an eternal partner to my crime
Blood rushed away from my intellect; I had blood on my hands…

She had not raved, nor ranted
When from love I had parted
To secure a beautiful future, I shamelessly depart
A stiletto sharp, she had placed under her heart
Sharper were the words, that broke her feeling
A serene smile, her deathly face illuminating
Death, painful had been accepted as grace
Blood drained dry from my heart; I had blood on my hands…

The rusty, sticky smell always a residue
I soap, I lather, but it's of no use
I rub; I scour, till blood break and flow
My soul, dense, sinks from to ego depth below
These days, I perpetually die within
Every breath, with a deep hush, kills me as I am livin'
I have more than blood on my hands…
These days; blood, has scarred my soul as it stands

© O. Sudhir Janardhanan