Grief

By Mohith S

I try to live my grief

but it struggles to expand

more and more

than how it is now

like a balloon

I want to pop it at a point

with a great sound

that’s the sound of my grief

the death of my grey sadness

heart aching

throbbing through rough, cold nights

wet pillows, wailing and sobbing

the moments

only my room knew

only the dangling t-shirt above me

on the clothline knew

no one else

can know

never

the air is quite cold

for some few hours since

I began weaving death traps

in my head

trying to catch myself in them

I miss them every time

maybe it isn’t my day

a disquieting night awaits.

By Mohith S