sorry if I woke you

she says upon discovery of the slumbering silver psyche

what’s a pretty little thing like you
doing way down here?

I have a hole

a hole?

a hole

may I see?

right here

she points to her chest

doesn’t that hurt?

a little

come here
let me look at you

she tiptoes towards him tacitly

darling, you’re bleeding!

yeah, it’s been doing that for a while now
all of my clothes are ruined

he reviews her jagged curves

I thought you were dressed in red
you wear it too well

glassy drops drip over her painted body
weaving glossy trails of existence
mingling with the sticky diluted colour
warm and painted wet

who did this to you?

I did

she shuffles her feet
eyes fall to the floor

dearest, who did this to you?

he moistens a cloud white cloth
as he directs her to the washroom

I did

why would you do such a thing
to yourself?

he begins drawing an ivory bath
with water so clear and sparkling

I wanted to see

see what?

if I could feel

she scratches a fingernail into her arm
revealing a sliver of her milky ghost

do you mind?

he extends his arm
mildly enveloping her dripping hand in his
a last wave of emotion rolls over her
while she steps gingerly into the tub

let’s see what we can do

he smiles with his eyes
winking them into hers

why are you helping me?

because I can
is that alright?

I don’t want to be a burden…

sweetheart, you’re only a burden to yourself

his words sting with burning honesty
she withdraws into herself

close your eyes
I’ll take care of you

she pulls away abruptly
panic flooding her perception

how can I trust you?


he removes each piece of clothing
laying them in a gentle heap at his feet

is that better?

he winces as she examines his naked form
suddenly shy in his voluntary exposure
he turns his head in shame

I have a hole too, you know

you wear it well
did you mend it yourself?

many times
I have to sew it every day
with a little bone needle and heart strings

come here
let me look at you

he enters the bathtub and stands facing her
in unison they slip down into the water
sitting with torsos and arms above
legs intertwining below

do you mind?

she begins to pluck at the strings
working them out of his skin
tenderly tugging out his past
passionately pulling out his memories

who did this to you?

I did

she finishes extracting the threads
and leans back in confusion

I know

he smooths the cotton cloth around her tattered tear
streaking out a sterling snowstorm
dying the warm liquid a swirling scarlet
he warily washes off her past
carefully cleanses off her memories

I want to give you something
you can do with it what you want

she watches closely as he
digs his fingers into his chest
leaving the gash gaping
fear invades her taciturnity

how can you trust me?

he nudges open her drooling cavern
and sets his heart in her cage

you found me

he snatches a clean heart string
snaps off a new splintered bone

you saw me

she grips the marble sides
now pink with their leaking ichor

you felt me

he threads the imperfect ivory needle
and presses it lightly into her skin

you heard me

he stitches her closed
sealing it with a kiss

but I’ve nothing for you…
my heart has gone missing!

no it hasn’t

she furrows her brow
new tears
pure tears

you gave it to me already

he dips her fingers into him

when you woke me



Forget what you’re told
the world isn’t all sunshine,
the world isn’t all rainbows,
It’s bitter, it’s cold.

Many an old eyes carry a thirst
of a day of glory,
of a day of victory.
They burn with blood-lust.

Look as you pass them.
Their overflowing bank accounts,
their countless hounds,
to them, it’s just a game.

The want of power,
is a desperate desire.
Flowers that shall blossom tomorrow
are but… a satire.

Everywhere you’ll see terror.
It’s been placed there,
by the ones above you, burn it!
Burn it for the wayfarer.

Remember, remember,
they control your day
they control your body
But your thoughts, they can’t dismember.

Burn them! Though…
They’re not against you
They are for themselves.
You… are not for you
You are… for them.

So when they speak of a light
that night that shone
They’ll fear the power of one man
It was… your Vendetta
Yours… and Yours alone!

Abhinav Kumar
17th March, 2015

Written for English Poetry Competition, INFERNO 2015.


Ability is to look at a blank page,

And create a poem.

Ability is to stare into the eyes of Fear,

And come out stronger because of it.

Ability is to walk into a room of Strangers,

And come out with Friends.

Ability is to admit you are Wrong,

When you are Wrong.

Ability is to get back up,

When you fall down.

Ability is to believe,

When everything seems lost.