Flames

By Kashvi Goel

And I was on fire.

My brain was dead.

My heartbeat too fast.

The flames were blazing,

they cackled and roared.

With my head against the pillow,

the tip of my earring seemed to pierce my neck.

Everything was too loud.

It wasn't the loudness that scared me,

it was the sound of silence.

I was reminded of his death again.

A sheet of frost that cooled the leaf melted,

it was a mere dewdrop now,

holding on for dear life,

it never seemed to fall.

It was salty and bitter,

full of grief and regret and hope.

My nose inhaling hot ashes,

my hands upon his icy cheeks,

my ears yearning for him to say my name,

my mouth too dry to yell, “Wake up, Dad,”

my eyes moist and glazed but remote.

I was letting go of sight,

bidding farewell to emotion,

and the fire was out.

By Kashvi Goel