Tossed High

By Barsha Priyadarshini

The breeze was enough to toss my kite in the sky

After you didn't show up scared of sharp strings leaving finger cuts.

I guess it never realized

how much it hurts to rip the skin open to bleed.

"It's just a cut" you said everytime.

Yes it was, probably a tiny one.

It didn't matter. It was persistent.

A cut once was a memory reminding you,

the peaks your kite soared,

But this was more

It yielded pain.

Left you tangled with strings

To hate the heights .To hate the kites

And yet again I see you toss a kite today

Happy to see it play with the winds

The strings still hurt but

You weren't in agony .You were in love

To see your kite fly at a height

you can proudly talk about throughout the year

Even if it takes a thousand more cuts

to toss it in the air after it drops.

By Barsha Priyadarshini