Tissue papers and bills
scribbled on in black ink
a silver ring
a red necklace
a pair of silver anklets
thats all that remains

I try not to look at them
they remind me of your absence

I clutch onto them
They fill a fraction of that gaping hole in me
that used to be you

I eat
because I promised you
I would

The effort of downing every morsel
drains me

I stand over the toilet bowl
coughing
nauseous
dizzy

I gulp down the tears
becuase I promised you
I wouldnt cry
And I cant cry much on my own anyway

A few sounds escape though
and worry my mother
I give her stupid excuses
She pretends to believe me
or maybe she does believe me
I am a good actress

over-reacting... Am I?
Being a Drama Queen?
Showing my pain too much?

I dont care really
I cant be a hypocrite and smile
while I'm dying inside

You said you wanted me to heal
you said you wanted me to be happy
you said I deserved better

Is this what I deserve?
Is this happiness according to you?
Is waking up wishing I was dead
or
feeling that hole in me grow
a little bit more each day
while the rough edges bleed
called healing?

Nisshash phelatake beche thaaka bole na
eta amar cheye beshi tui bujhish