Tag Archives: poetry

tw: domestic abuse

my blood is in your hands,
i wonder
i wonder how could you love someone
but still live w the sight of their blood on your hands.
and i sit in the hospital
at 2 am
alone
wailing
wondering
questioning
and i try
i try to piece all together
and i blame it all on myself
because in this sick twisted tale of ours, i never learnt to blame you.
and each day we get up put our masks on
with a smile so bright and eyes sparkling glitter and im scared
im scared masks have gripped onto our skins too tight and we’ll rip out our skins trying to pull them out
even when i try to get rid of this mask, they tell me,
they tell me,
stop whining
you are not a child anymore you understand
he is a good man
he must be stressed out
he must be drunk
but how do i tell them
that doesn’t justify your actions that shouldn’t justify your actions. and i don’t owe anything to you how do i tell this to myself?
when i love you.
so much.
but, well, if it’s love,
why is it so messed up?

next day
you come to me
apologize
tell me
you didn’t mean it and would never do anything to hurt me again. and i believed
i believed and i waited
waited till you forget this
and
hurt me again
the next time followed the same story your one step forward
my one step backwards
your eyes filled with rage
as if
you could kill me any next moment
your hands clinching into a fist
my breaths turning faster and faster every moment
you don’t owe him anything
you don’t owe him anything
i kept muttering this in silence
my head starts echoing
until
i take a step forward
i take a step forward
hold your hand
push you away
and run away as fast as i could
you grasped my hair
the one thing you told me you loved the most about me you grasped them
pulled me backwards
threw me
shove me into a wall
as if i were nothing
you are stronger than him
my head echoes with these words
my heart filled w the very rage that was once love for you until
i hit back

and then run
even when i could have fought back harder but
i knew
i still loved you.
so much.
-Avni Jain

𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

you are a canvas full of colour,

your body is a shrine,

you like the first drop of rain touching earth,

you make music out of me when you play with my hair,

you touched me without even touching me,

you voice made me feel safe as you cupped me in the blanket: your skin.

you are the love at first remembrance.

~𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙞 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩

on the last day of love,

i walked through the windy night

and let the same wind take my happy poem from me,

i drew the curtains of my room,

i closed every entrance,

i confined myself into the attic,

my psyche cried a war on the very skin i live in,

the memories bury me alive,

i dug the earth deeper,

walking through it,

the peace in my heart

felt like walking in a library after dark,

the chaos in my mind

felt like walking on the thorns of roses you gave me.

with every step on thorn,

my mind wrote a letter to you,

saying

“𝙞’𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚.”

𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠

i drew out those curtains,

i let the broken pieces,

i tried to stick together in fragile unity;

𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠.

𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙡

i drew out those curtains,

the light entering my room

felt like sunlit honey,

the peace around me

felt like the calm at the sea,

the voices in my head

didn’t echo anymore.

i let myself out of the attic

i confined myself into.

i felt free from the war my soul broke onto the skin i lived in.

as i panegyrise about this pain,

my head echoes once again,

“𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪?”

-A.