Vulnerability Poem by Nishant Ohri

It was the right place at a wrong time
The afternoon was spent in languid spurts of words
And by the evening, the only fillers between the
Fragments of our guilt were single syllables

Time lay with us, behind the latched door
And we found freedom, fueled by rain and muck
Lying. Between crumpled sheets, within walls
Lying. Even in the snug captivity of sweat
Lying! As always. Quite comfortably.

Awoken in the late darkness of our room
With dreamy expectations of a cool, jeweled moon
But it was a foggy dawn
So we lied again, over cigarettes and tea
And changed our names at the doorstep.

The artifacts of your arrival: a wine stained t-shirt,
A pair of insignificant luster from your ears
And our echoing mirth in an empty bottle
But we memorised our list of things-to-forget

Even the stain was vulnerable to amnesia