// Unfinished Poetry //
There is something about nights, that make people uncover their vulnerabilities. The way the darkness cradles you in its arms and the haunting silence sings its lullabies, it almost lulls you to sleep. But then, there comes an instant when the unlikely caress reminds you of someone, a long lost pearl that once broke your shells and injected in you the venom of momentary happiness, only to make you build your walls higher and stronger. The person who mercilessly handed you over to the demons of solitude, the same person who occupies the rage of your verses and the person who lives in the crevices of your unfinished poetry.
But ounce by ounce, you have learnt to live with the burden of this void. You have learnt to hug the pricking spines of insomnia and maybe, the blank pages of your diary now have more stories to tell than the ink flowing down your pen. Your pain just spills itself on the pillow, ever so silently.
You give up on your attempt to sleep. You light a cigarette and in between whiffs of smoke, you make futile vows of letting go, once again, as another sleepless night makes you feel at home.
By Ankita Bhattacharjee