Numbness

The minute hand of the clock finally hit the 12,
the hour hand rest at 2 steadily,
it’s 2 AM now,
and I am pulling the blanket over my head,
there’s no winter in my city,
despite the cold winds that blow,
it’s always warm,
there’s winter inside me,
raging a snow storm,
and I clutch pillow harder,
I hear footsteps of a familiar lady,
slowly reaching for my head,
and before she can pull the blanket down,
I whisper faintly,
‘I am good. Let me sleep please.’
I hear her heart aching
but I can’t see her sorrow,
for I am too drowned in my misery,
to understand her own.

the minute hand ran to 10,
and it’s 10 minutes over 2.

I see moon beaming in my window,
casting nets of light on dream catcher,
the wind chime is singing melancholy,
with the lyrics of tick tock,
and I am here holding puzzled pieces of past,
trying to figure out wisdom in pain,
I see ghosts howling in the backyard of my dreams
numb I am today, there’s not even a whispered scream,
my faint memory of numbness dates back,
to my first visit to a graveyard,
I was in bed and it was exactly 10 over 2,
when I saw a smoke entering my body,
and it was exactly 15 over 2 when I screamed,
5 minutes into the paralysed dream,
I knew what numbness is,
and how my fears will take away my voice.

this is not a poem,
maybe another numbness trying to scream,

A minute hand runs anticlockwise,
almost 2880 times,
it was spring in my home,
blooming on my skin were ambrosial stars,
before they were torn into pieces,
for my bareness was more important than my beauty,
and his hands mocked my numbness,
slowly imprisoning my dignity,
I was shared with millions of monsters in my head,
and it wasn’t an illusion as I lie to the world,
it was nightmare paralysing reality
it was another screaming in numbness,
I couldn’t shout, I couldn’t scream,
I wanted but my body deceived,
Can consent be seen in eyes?
Can ‘No’ be heard in silence?

It’s 30 minutes past 2,
and I am writing about a girl
who made my home in 4 years,
and burnt my house in 2 seconds,
time matters even if memories don’t,
the warmth of a familiar hand leaves my head,
I hear heavy taps of slippers – 2 footsteps per second,
the door closed in exhaustion,
it’s 15 minutes past 2.30,
and I hear faint sobs in the next room,
Hey! I whisper slowly,
suffocating my voice
for if she gets to know,
that her Love is another of those living corpse,
she found in asylum she visited today,
Will, she breathes life,
or bleed this numbness?

________________________