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It's All Gone

Fifty seven minutes ago I burnt your picture.

That was fifty-six minutes nine seconds before I started writing this

Sixty four minutes from when I realized I had lost all peace

And I hate repeating myself; but what is this?

How was that; who dares to speak?

My fingers are typing while my mind says ‘hold your piece’

Forty-four minutes ago I hurt those fingers

I hurt them because I was burning your letters

Your cards; all those little pink flowers

All the sparkles and confetti showers

But could not burn the memory of reading them hour after hour

I burnt my sheets two minutes after that

Because I wanted to get rid of your perfume

My sister looked at me and laughed; I looked at her and fumed,

Then asked for vinegar with which to scrub my room

Thirty-nine minutes; thirty nine minutes of hearing you speak,

Two hours of seeing your fingerprints on my walls

Your scent is driving me crazy; I want to run,

But no matter where I go you always seem to come

Twenty-one minutes ago I burnt those shirts;

The green one and the yellow; and also the vest

Then fifteen minutes ago I wanted to rest,

But went and got a Calypso bottle first

My room looks like a war zone; smoking and bereft

Scattered; looking lonely like graves of green berets

The walls are clean though; sparkling and new,

Seems like I burned the last thing I could find of you.

I just wish I could burn my heart…



6 responses

  1. Babyada

    Intense. Really intense. You’ll get yourself back, I assure you…*with me by your side* hehehe

    February 22, 2012 at 11:14 am

    • That would really be nice, Ada. Thanks.

      February 23, 2012 at 8:58 am

  2. harun oye

    Still playing in my head like a movie…

    January 21, 2013 at 4:37 pm

  3. How come I just saw this? It’s just so beautiful.

    March 9, 2013 at 8:40 am

    • Maybe ‘cos you weren’t looking for it?

      Thank you.

      March 9, 2013 at 1:07 pm

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