Curry On The Walls

A Free Verse Poem.

From Pinterest

those daydreams and waking nights rotten eyelids with expanded hours

(what was it…) that made me keep it to myself?

Those dimming questioning looks, telling me to tell

what I always wanted to tell.

— a congenital habit —

But I wanted more gusts of the winds.

My head would heat up a pressure cooker.

(And now what?) All the curry on the walls.

Some shards of steel inside my body.

Trying to pull them out— one by one.

Smiling while looking at my wounds.

That you always tried to heal.

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