attic

there's an attic inside

my ribcage, you know,

where the light, to this 

date, has never arrived,

i was a charmer on the 

surface but a belittled 

town on the inside, 

my friends and family 

feared that soon i would

subside into a classic 

and counterfeit delight,

i guess this was true,

as now i have a thousand 

reasons to be left behind,

the quality of being 

the smallest in the room,

i like how they question me,

and dread that whatever i 

answer turns out to be true,

shaking my feet on floorboards,

reviving my ink, i assumed 

arms did not work in cold wars,

sealing my lips, gazing 

at my falling kinships,

i presumed i was nicer while

harboring their silence and silts,

they ratified some peace but

i am still decoding their receipts,

inhabiting colours of the summer 

i am the thriving winter inside it.

- chetna 🌻