play, pause, replay

sorrow

Sorrow was tattooed on my right shoulder blade.

A faint redness blooms around the dark ink.

Tattoos aren't any reminder for me, they're the

remnants of the what-ifs I never saw around.

A few houses burned down on the edge of the scars.

Sorrow was the faceless beggar that lay on the dust

of the crowded station, letting the sun crush the skin

of his thirst to live; an almost black shadow that didn't

let life win for the last time—the wrong pill for ache.

Is there any name for the continuous ache in life?

Sorrow was the cherry tree I planted with Grandad.

The flower girl used to dance under the shade of 

the tree and Grandad would spend his late evenings

enveloped in the embrace of the cherry blossoms;

There'd be a hint of flawed beauty in our everyday lies.

Sorrow wasn't my life that I had always tried to 

wash away in tides of vodka and cheap rosé.

Sorrow wasn't Mum who wrote me goodbye inside

that stupid blue envelope and left me behind.

Sorrow wasn't the girl I watched die inside 

the upside-down car on my seventeenth birthday.

Sorrow wasn't my Phoebe, or Daisy, or Atlas.

"Life's another gap between your teeth," Mum said.

"It'll be gone before you can realize anything."

It's another letter with a nameless sender's address.

1313 Mockingbird Lane, Twilight Fields, IL 60060.

Sorrow is the ache that sends shockwaves of bliss

across my corroded bones; an auburn birth scar that 

I never wanted but was allowed to remain.

And this's the last time I'm crying about it even though I said I wouldn't

The letter was from my Mum, the one that got away.

Sorrow made me the worst, but thankfully, it wasn't a monster.

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A/N: Hi, everyone! Life has a way of keeping us on our toes, doesn't it? For me, the past few months have been a whirlwind, and I regret not being as active here on Wattpad as I'd like to be. However, I'm grateful for these moments now, to reconnect with all of you.

On a more somber note, I recently learned of the passing of @JimHeter. His departure leaves a profound void in our community. Jim was not just a poet; he was a beacon of creativity and kindness, leaving behind a legacy that touched many hearts. Let us remember him for his extraordinary talent and the warmth he brought to our virtual shelves.

Now, onto something deeply personal to me—this poem. It's a piece that resonates deeply, as it reflects a universal struggle many of us face. I hope it speaks to you as it has to me. If you find resonance in these lines, I would be honored to receive your thoughts and feedback.

Thank you for your unwavering support. Your engagement means the world to me. 

Affectionately,

Sreeja.