I wake up from this slumber
Startled at midnight
Awoken by fresh love
And suddenly this vast loneliness in the unending universe
Seems very small
I crave to cry
And how my tears turn their way through my throat deep into the entrails
So no one ever could find them.
Why are they such hypocrites, like you, my love ?
They are a hemlock I drink everyday.
I wonder when this rib cage of mine dampened with a grave desires and weighed under indelible pain will burst into a thousand confetti.
My apocalypse.
I fear, my love, each shattered piece of me will still worship the soul you cage within...
Most people that I have met in life have found my name intriguing, enigmatic or colloquially what you call a 'jaw-breaker'. Therefore, much to my dissent, my name got conveniently shortened to 'Shreya' or 'Shrey'. It irked me majorly because 'Shreya' is also a different name within the Bengali culture. It felt like an imposition of a person or personality that I were not. Over a period of time overstimulation forced me to accept the fait accompli until, a friend started using the word 'Shree' to address me affectionately. Intuitively, effortlessly and organically I felt like my personality fell in perfect symphony with being called 'Shree', so much so that, subconsciously, I also had started to address myself as 'Shree' soon afterwards. Needless to say, the shift in cultural paradigm as I immigrated from India to USA was vast and diverse. Surprisingly however, it made me cling on desperately to the vestiges of my roots and identi...
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