top of page
Search

The Flashbacks

By Suryam Mittal


It's not the goodbyes that hurt 

It's the flashback that follows 

This feels like a storm in my mind and  

Makes me hollow.  

Days went and nights flew freely,  

Her memories were killing me insidiously  

Trying to forget her face is quixotic exercise,  

Knowing that this is gonna be always by my side.  

Her smile fills joy in my vacuous heart  

It won't last because I am always at last.  

This loss makes me insipid and Grey,  

Longing for what's lost, every single day.


By Suryam Mittal


Recent Posts

See All
The Bathroom Floor

By Shragvi Yadav The bathroom tiles lay cold, And coldest in the darkest summers, Guilt crawls up my feet like the ants on the floor, Passions lay wetted into those half-filled tubs— Tubs that stink o

 
 
 
Dirty Rugs

By Shragvi Yadav Five o’clock and the water’s cold, The tiles are white and don’t look so old, I cannot sleep, I cannot weep, I cannot sweep the floor, The dirty rug drips and its heavyweight makes me

 
 
 
Mortar

By Shragvi Yadav A house made of bricks, Bricks and mortar and sand, The blue tulips of my grandma’s home, This is not my home, my pursuit—where is my land? Do you still brush your fingers o’er my pho

 
 
 

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet
Add a rating
bottom of page