Metaphors - By Nirvana Soogreem

Written By: Nirvana Soogreem

Category: Poetry

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Nirvana Soogreem presents "Metaphors," a poignant entry in the Poetry category of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This evocative piece invites readers to explore themes of love, loss, and introspection through rich imagery and emotional depth. With a focus on the intricate weaving of personal experience and metaphorical language, Soogreem's work stands as a testament to the enduring power of poetry to convey the complexities of the human condition.

About the Work

"Metaphors" is a deeply introspective exploration of emotions, capturing the essence of longing and the pain of absence. Through vivid imagery and a hauntingly lyrical style, Soogreem crafts a narrative that speaks to the heart's struggle to find closure. The poem's mood is reflective and melancholic, with a focus on the enduring impact of past relationships. Its powerful use of metaphor underscores the inescapable nature of memory and the intricacies of emotional resilience.

Metaphors

Original Submission by Nirvana Soogreem

Metaphors

How poetic it is you’ll never see these words

Which are just pictures of you sketched in letters

Instead of strokes of pencil lead or oil paints.

Writing seems entirely pointless when you are no longer here to be proud. See me smile but these eyes are that of falsehood and deception. For as much as I pant praise and promote my poetry like a baby I birthed From the fountain of my hands and offspring of my raging and most Intimate emotions

I know I raised the baby off of your absence,

Which then just makes the child a product of how we could have raised it And how we grew apart trying to fill a bottomless hole

Of something I cannot even explain in the words I tried to replicate Those paralyzing brown eyes.

The finality of this is bittersweet

Because I know it is never truly a conclusion,

Never closing the book,

But instead starting the cover of a new one.

It’s like how I let you go.

I simply didn't.

I never let you go, I just became silent,

Taking each painful wave and surfing it

Instead of begging you to save me from drowning in it.

I never stopped feeling

I just stopped showing you how I felt.

I never stopped writing,

I just stopped letting you read my pages first.

Because what did it matter if the letters would just remain unopened. I never let go of you,

I just let you go.

Because for you to breathe easily,

I must leave, and reclaim every trace of me that you knew. And for me to breathe easily,

I need to lower my head from clouds

Of memories which suffocate me

And delude me to believe that you are the only set of lungs I can rely on, Because before, I could breathe normally

But you gave me cold, sharp fresh air

And got me addicted.

Now smokers lungs chase fresh air

When even breathing normally again is strenuous.

I wish that closure was real and offered real peace

And I didn't have to be spiraling at a laptop,

Begging that each more word I add to a blank page

Make every mistake slightly less my fault.

But even that, I know, is more impossible,

Then asking for forgiveness for ruining us by my hands.

And I wish that every stain of ink

Could lift a little more heaviness from your heart

And if words were as real as how I feel

Then maybe you would stay enough to see me,

And when you do, those words will guide you

Until im written behind your eyes when you sleep,

Because you would be sopping with the dawning

That I truly cared every single day.

And thus those sodden words turn into tears down your cheeks, Because my words will touch where my hands never could; your face. And when you wipe them they will remain there on your hands. Because words are the most staining substance,

Not with tears or denial, they are plastered in the walls of your mind, You cannot wash them away.

And when you are drawn to psychotic fits

Of tearing your mind’s wallpaper down,

Remember those words will always be in your heart as well. And stirred into your blood,

Haunting and ingrained into your hair.

You will never escape the scriptures of my liltful tongue And swordsman's wrists will be beguiled by

The artful dexterity of my words abilities

To fight blinded and unarmed, and

To kill without drawing blood.

And I wrote the book we spoke about,

Here is my evidence you’ll never see.

I starved tried to feed a satisfied beast

And made offerings and sacrifices of myself.

Took pieces of my heart and mind and tongue and soul Unethically sourced but sourced nevertheless

And laid them before eyes I knew not whether they could see, But naively believed that they would,

Even if it were to just look to avoid stepping on

And dirtying their feet.

I believed that loving you would resuscitate us.

I believed that the more seeds I planted,

The greater the opportunity a flower would bloom. But somewhere in the garden,

My love dried the soil the seeds lay.

And my tears wouldn’t cease to spill

Which overwatered the seeds.

And spiraling paranoia,

It grew tangling weeds which

Strangled the seedlings before much could have become of it. But I never stopped gardening,

I just never sang to the earth again.

I silently lay from sunrise to sunset

Beside the damaged soil trying to bring life

To the deceased by just staring but never touching.

Your memory remains on me like the scent of a cigarette, Even long after I stubbed my final flame out

I breathe it on old clothes and my hair,

My hands and from the mouths of strangers.

And my heart flutters like the addict I am,

And my lungs burn infuriated

That it can’t dance with the smoke anymore.

And the scent makes my stomach clench

And makes my heart throb so gut-wretchingly

I cough to chase the illusion you touched me again. I lay awake in a dark room

Where smoke would have drifted across my ceiling Revealed and brought to life

By the screen of my laptop.

And mist and cloud my eyes with hope it almost felt like A childhood dream with how outlandish it was,

But you made it feel so real.

We played pretend in a world too real

And how must I grow up again and

Stop playing make-believe in reality.

How must I escape our dreams?

And I ruined it,

Because I was never used to dreams,

I always had to grow up and face reality

And I always had to be an adult.

Ironically, emotional maturity has been a trait of mine How humorous that emotions are only mature when retained. Had I even the slightest knowledge of emotion I would not run into fires to bade coldness

Which would have ceased by wearing a coat.

I cannot be careful when playing with fire,

Because I love how beautiful it looks when it burns, So I let it burn the skin off my bones

To keep the flame alight for longer than its time. I forced closure until the closure was forced

Onto me in the most painful and tragic way.

Until tolerance grew into disdain and disgust

I grew reliant on the insurance that you’d tolerate me forever, And how wrong I was.

I took for granted too many times.

Had I left before the begging began

Maybe I could still believe I am justified writing this book With the belief you still held me

In that highest position you did

before you saw me in desperation.

When beautiful turns to ugly

Love turns to regret

All the angelic memories are only replaced

By the sound of my voice begging

And my bleeding out of self-respect.

Maybe I was loved by you before

Because if blood to you meant danger

And bleeding meant showing my love,

Our fate could have never been more

Then just a dream.

Trying to break away from you

Is like trying to break a mirror

I shattered the large portrait of you

Just to get a million shards

of fragmented pieces which

Ultimately show me more of you and

These pieces will always stab me

And leave me with tiny cuts.

And no one will see these cuts

But they are the cuts that hurt the most.

Microscopic, bleeding reminders

That I broke the mirror.

And if I cannot see my own reflection in it

It is my fault I let it break the way it did.

And I know I’d spend forever trying to repiece something That simply cannot be repaired by my pathetic human hands. How can something break so easily

But be impossible to repiece.

And even if I tried to rid those pieces,

Throw them all away,

They will only grow to be painful splinters in my palms As I try to scrape them off the floors of my soul. And had I ever managed to believe

I had picked them all

There will always be one that will stick to me

And every now and again

And especially at the break of light

It will pierce me.

And I will feel that pain all over again

In the pit of my stomach

And the place between my ribs.

-Vana

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, celebrates the diversity and creativity of writers worldwide. This esteemed competition provides a platform for poets and writers to share their unique voices and connect with a global audience. Participants are invited to submit their original works, showcasing their literary talents and contributing to the rich tapestry of contemporary creative writing.

Thank you, Nirvana Soogreem, for sharing your profound work, "Metaphors," with us in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your exploration of complex emotions through poetry is both moving and thought-provoking. We appreciate your contribution and look forward to seeing more of your creative endeavors in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.