The melody onto your chest that plays,
Muddy rains on the window as the evening slays.
Your voice echo to the tune of my laboured breath
And aside, on the floor, our masks layeth
You show your scars and corpses from the past
I lay my fears to rest at last
My body, you worship in your lover's grace
Holy rituals in our sweet embrace
Goosebumps like vales on my forlorn skin
Awakened spirits like embers within
Amidst our rubbles, blows an ignorant breeze,
My soul so long a slave, you set release...
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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