Memory Globe

By Kritika Gupta

unwritten poem and a half finished bottle of whiskey

I followed my father's footprints

and the moon reached me.

but alas I started running away from my shadow

as I shoved my past life beneath me,

I turned around to hear

you looking at me, with the loving indifference of a parent,

you took my broken fingertips in your empty hand,

as I filled it with magic and poetry and death

of my memories and regrets

I continued to cry on

the shoulder you provided,

with nothing left to sing of

you bid me adieu and left

us in the palace,

of our ghost friendship.

By Kritika Gupta