I wake up yesterday.
The sun’s still a rotation away.
Marshes bleed into deserts.
Apparently, it’s quite overt.
The throat rusts.
Not long until self-destruct.
Lavender rests beneath my eyes,
Colourless veins, it’s easier to pretend otherwise.
I watch you laugh from afar
in the face of impending war.
When did we talk last?
Maybe a spring aeons past.
Winters freeze, summers melt,
I remember how it felt.
You tipped the balance; take a bow!
Visits used to be frequent.
Now you shudder to meet me in secret.
Behold the ongoing domino affair.
Your last pursuit, you nonchalantly swear.
Your flirtations, our reality.
My extended hand, your apathy.
Late arrivals, hasty departures.
Engulfed in blue light, a distant watcher.
A trail of poor decisions in your wake,
trusting tomorrow is your recurring mistake.
So here goes my inexplicable sorrow,
fashioned on your arm, dystopia dressed as tomorrow.
My implorations evoke laughter,
you conveniently file it under harmless chatter.
You pump the streams of logic dry,
it’s easier to lie than to try.
So, I watch you throw it all away
seeking comfort in a new home for stay.
My luxury to protect depreciates,
there’s barely any love left to negotiate.
You seek solace in an endless path
but infinity has already left the chat.
Forests will embrace fire.
Floods will disastrously aim higher.
The sun will fortify your thirst.
Brawls and riots will cause cities to burst.
Rights will evaporate.
Wealth will lose its charm; I can easily substantiate.
The air will tighten its noose around your neck
plastic effigies will dance on your deck.
Tomorrow won’t arrive.
You’ll be left on your own to survive.
Only when I’ll cease to wake up yesterday,
you’ll have time to put your thoughts to display.
You’ll realise what I wanted.
To protect. To breathe.
To live. Just like you.
Along with you.
Attreyee Bhattacharya is currently pursuing a management degree from SPJIMR, Mumbai. She writes about fantasy, reality, and everything in between.
Featured image credit: Pixabay