I Am…

I exist in darkness and tainted love. In ruins and funereal winds. I live in deep wounds and sleeping woods. I’m the silence after the chaos of suicide and self-sacrifice. I’m the tears in her eyes and the lump in his throat. I’m the midnight shadow and the sempiternal toll. I’m her betrayal and his broken trust. I’m the ship rust and the drowning body. I’m the pain unzipping his veins and the summer in her winter nights. I’m the novel that was bookmarked but never read. I’m the insides of the God and the coffin buried under their house. I’m not her’s, nor mine; I’m gone but I will partially subsist. 
© Aniket More


Living Is Painful

I’m longing, slowly not-belonging, departing to become a circumstance to someone. 
I’m harrowed, disinterested, but going on, it is not enough.
I’m incomplete with a deep meaning, not-wanted, turning pale.

I don’t want to show, but the cuts are all over my body, I’m falling apart , I will, not now, but soon. 
© Aniket More