speed dial & other poems by shreya sivaramakrishnan

speed dial


With bloodshot eyes and austerity,

I lay down.

Putting my ego to rest.

The Id was an all time high, sending impulses of greed, lust, rage.


17th August. My calendar read,

The date circled with a red marker,

Making sure it did not fade away.

Indeed, it didn’t.

My mind replayed, paused and reset.


Staring into thin air, I cried.

Imagining a shoulder to rest my head on.

I grabbed my phone with angst,

Dialed a number,

It rang.

Giving me hope, then, it was dead silence.

Nothing.

No one.


I frantically recorded a voice note and sent it,

Why wouldn’t it deliver?

I was in pain, why would he not come and rescue me?

My memory was distorted,

I reset it, changing every detail which caused pain.


Now, 17th August was no more his death anniversary,

It was his birthday.

There was no car crash,

It was a long drive.

The voice message was no more valid, because it was an internet failure.

In all these distortions,

One thing remained constant,

He was my speed dial back then,

He is still my speed dial.

parker shatkin


guilt


It ate me up,

Slowly.

It was like a predator feasting on it’s prey.

It was the acid that formed in the pit of my stomach

And rose at an unimaginable pace.

It was all about the could haves,

And all the but if’s.


It was everyday of constant blame,