Poetry
Every Thought I Had This October II
By Anindya Arif
This October,
My thoughts
Are brittle as snow
And not nebulous.
This October,
All I need
is to not be me.
This October,
I want to be forgotten
Rather than be known
in any way,
I would rather not
Be known.
This October,
I want to pull away.
​
This October,
I hope it is the last October
I write something like this.
​
This October,
I want to re-examine my life
Without the relationships in it.
​
This October,
I have been trying to write
Less about God
And more about
Atheists who still pray
To a God, they no
Longer believe in.
​
This October,
I want to write more about
A love that does not bruise
When you get uncomfortably close to it.
​
This October,
I want to bow
on my knees
And Croon
Coming Up Roses.
​
This October,
I want to get close
To someone
And not burst into flames.
​
This October,
I am still wasting away
As I was the
Previous October.
​
This October,
I am looking for anything
Any sign and anyone
Who is going to assure me
Everything will be okay.
​
This October,
Nothing I write
Carries the entirety
of my sentiments.
​
This October,
Between grief and nothing
I still do not know
Which one to pick?
​
This October,
I am nothing but myself.
​
This October,
is different from all
The other Octobers
​
This October,
There have been
Splashes of happiness.
This October,
I tried to write a poem
That was not
Painful to write.
I still do not know
if I succeeded
​
or not?
​
This October,
I expected nothing at all
or maybe,
I expected everything.
This October,
is an ode to all the
Sorrow I have felt
And I cannot let the
Happiness I have felt
​
Ruin it.
This October,
There seems nothing to
Write about.
​
This October,
I tried drawing myself
in a way, more people would want me
For the life of me, I could not
Figure out what kind of heart to draw
What kind of emptiness in it.
This October,
All I see around me
Are remembrances
From my past
​
This October,
My grief is housed
In every inch of my body.
This October,
I really wanted to
Easy to be around.
This October,
Made me realise only
The me that I am today
is the only one who
Would have made
The choices I made.
​
Next October,
A different I will
Will be looking at
A different set of choices
Hoping for a better end.
This October,
I want to know
What is coming tomorrow?
This October,
I want to belong somewhere
Even if it is in
A burial ground.
​
This October,
I realised I never
Did like living in Sydney
​
or wherever.
​
This October,
There is nothing to talk about
The answers are
All staring at my face.
This October,
I will finally make an attempt
To clean the
Blood-filled sink
in my old room.
This October,
or the one after that
I hope it is my
Last October.
