the palace, the hospital, and the museum.

Fallen Alone

the palace.

you have grown into the habit of walking out,
and grown out of the habit of sneaking past the door
when we slept-
because you were convinced
that the walls slammed into our bones
hard enough to make us sick.

you used to think of every coincidence
as fate.

i don’t know what you think of anymore.

these last few years,
you’ve been leaving too many footprints
on the floors
from the number of times
you’ve almost walked out,
because the seasons were seeping through the ceiling
and you’ve been away for far too long
to remember how to
adapt.

the hospital.

we keep painting everything in white
the night
before you come back-

because apparently,
it’s tragic for new tables to have old mats,
but not nearly as much as
for old faces to have new feelings.

the museum.

the thing about hatred is that
it festers-

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there’s a price to pay for all the times you’ve fought her.

Fallen Alone

she was a penny that had fallen
out of your drunken fingers
each time you paused on your walk
back to the apartment where
you stashed a lifetime of ephialtes
in cramped suitcases,
and haunted corners.

she was the change you remember
to forget as you stumble on lampposts
 when the clouds shield Luna from your fists,
and your back pockets lurch in protest
to all the letters folded inside them.

she was that little dollar you earned
when you sold off
an old vintage photograph of a girl
in a wedding gown reciting poetry,
to a sculptor-
because you knew,
some bones are rather turned to stones
than remembered as ashes.

she was the cost of forever
that you failed to pay,
so now you live in small debts
and smaller deaths
watching the full moon in eclipse
 half the night, for quarter of each month .

••ari purkayastha

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crescent.-ari purkayastha/Fallen Alone

Fallen Alone

The ageless stars fall,
and I fall right along with them.
How could I not?
When even they bow
to your majestic beauty;
that to gaze upon you once
they readily renounce,
of their angelic statures,
and fall..

How come one,
as luminescent as you-
came into my
light-less night?
Drowning me in your
candescent breath of life,
you finally made me see
the hidden beauty of ardor.

Your lunar essence,
awakens my soul,
just for it to drift away into
the astral presence
of your ever watching gaze,
so that when ever I feel lost,
or hopeless, and drown into the darkness,
you shine just a little bit brighter
and illuminate my core.

Your grandiose, even the seraphs envy,
because albeit your scars
and imperfections,
you are still
the most captivating being,
that I have ever cohered with.
For like a crescent moon at night
in midst of a…

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god is dead.-ari purkayastha/Fallen Alone

Fallen Alone

god is dead.

he died seven years ago, on the streets of mumbai- hit by a car, while he stumbled on the sidewalks, mumbling all sorts of obsolescent prayers, as the meth in his veins slowly bestrewed his significance on those half eaten concrete roads, that wrapped itself like a ragged hand-me-down scarf, around a city standing on human bones.

his body lay there for three days before it was discovered by a fisher-maid, setting up her baits, trying to catch skeletons that had somehow learned to float in just that layer of water that was reserved for the living. she never screamed. she never did anything, but walk to a nearby cigarette shop- that sold faux maturity to eleven-years-olds for just a measly price of 5 rupees (or if you were short on the money, you could always pay with the excess of the cells in your lungs), and…

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for the things i never ask.

ugh. perfection.

Fallen Alone

i would’ve rather asked you
how many names you’ve scribbled
on the back of your hands
with needles,
and how many of them you’ve stricken out
when the bus stopped
in a screech,
and two footsteps always faltered
on the sidewalks
in a slow contemplation
of death.

i would’ve rather asked you
how many times you’ve stabbed your thighs
with razor blades
that sank perpendicularly
to your veins,
when the wrinkles on their wrists
folded into themselves,
like curtains closing
over their heart chambers.

i would’ve rather asked you
the number of ways
you’ve learned to sing her poem completely,
without ever remembering the stanza
that left her lips
in those seven mute seconds
that somehow got trapped between
your window and her door,
when she had been
choking herself on all those lifeless little sentences
that had wrapped themselves
around her voicebox
like a noose that tightened
every time…

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letters for a certain nobody. #2-ari purkayastha/Fallen Alone

Fallen Alone

14th April, 2017.
3:42 pm.

i miss the way your heart used to fuck mine in the middle of a crowd, as everyone looked over at us, without ever seeing how fast they slammed against our ribcages, while we tried to cage our flailing valves and aching veins that were too tired to scream, and yet too obstinate to stop fighting.

it’s all too very still now.

my body has lost it’s rebellion, and my mind has lost it’s battle, as they both stand silently over the tomb where parts of you lived within me long ago. everything that moves today, does so in denial- because acceptance hurts.

you could sew bones back into their sockets, and joints back into their folds, but the tears at the creases where you folded my breast as a keepsake cannot be joined anymore than you can reset the calendars to sail back through…

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our names, and without them.-ari purkayastha/Fallen Alone

Fallen Alone

you’ve called me every name
but a lover-

almost as if i haven’t been cradling
your lungs in my arms,
breathing my breath into them
like a mother singing farewells
to her newborn-
screamless in death.

almost as if you are unremembered
by my tongue-
you act like i’ve wounded you
with silence,
as if i have cut out your ribs
with my nails, and
wordlessly swallowed their grief
for a heart.

there is no heart.

there are rhythmic knocks on your chest
from a past self
losing himself in the struggle
to be heard.

you’ve called me every name-
but yours.

••ari purkayastha

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