Ghost of me
The girl with long, straight black hair and straight eyes looks into you,
Looks through your soul.
The girl with long, straight hair and a straight face sits in front of you,
Smile on her face, spark lost in her eyes,
Trying to speak your mind, but she knows what it wants to say.
You just want to grab her from the back and attain her length.
To her, she has come across a long road—a rocky one.
She has witnessed bloodshed.
Loss of lives—all wasted.
Loss of love—all haunted.
Loss of autonomy—all replaced.
Loss of feelings—all rampaged.
She represses what she loves the most.
She loves love and wants to reciprocate.
But she knows too much.
She knows it will end before even arriving.
She knows what depth is.
So, the girl with long, straight black hair and a long, straight face is scared of superficial shadows.
She is scared of the moon that holds back its stature.
She is scared of the stars that tell different tales but end up in different spaces!
She is scared of possession.
So, she possesses an altitude of solitude that echoes for hundreds and thousands of lonely nights.
She embraces loneliness like armor.
She talks to herself back-to-back.
About what could and what would happen,
She remains to herself, only for herself, always the same.
She keeps telling her mind the same story that her heart is tired of holding for too long.
It wants to release, but it knows she can't.
There is no safe space for her to hold her sacred, fragile heart that has stood so much pain.
She keeps playing the repeated story in her mind on and on, all over again.
She knows too much.
So, she carries the weight.
She knows too much.
So, she holds herself back.
From moving on.
From running.
Or, perhaps from staying.
She can't stay too long in a damp state.
The girl with long straight black hair and black eyes looks straight through your soul.
She is smiling outside, holding a storm inside her.
She is already reciprocating to what she knows.
She is nodding her head to the ghosts of her replays.
The girl with straight, long black hair in a pretty orange dress sitting in front of you is a ghost of her.
She hides herself from everyone even without any veils.
The shadow of her is lurking behind her smile.
She can't be yours or anybody else's,
Because she hasn't defeated her own shadows, Yet she knows too much about the lingering effects.
You know, some people never come out of their fears.
Because, they know the loop of uncertainty never ends!
In despair of life- they despair the shallow lucrative things,
That looks too convenient and too casual from front and behind,
Left and right.
The shine that tends to blur their vision but ultimately fails!
They run far away from situations that tends to suppress their insights!
She doesn’t want to lose herself neither she wants someone else to lose their spark,
Go astray into other directions.
There has been always a sharp difference between the demon and ghost of people.
One tries to succumb you entirely,
Consume all the good in you,
The other one feels numb,
Suppresses herself by scaring away all those glittery shadows.
©® Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy
Timestamp: 3.16 pm, MIST-T4.
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