Easy

I think I always knew it would come down to this:
who stays / who leaves / who is kicked in the ribs;

We fought for two decades but I still
remember that night two years ago,

I called a truce, fingers itching to pull out her hair,
saw her slip a pocket knife in her bra;

She taught me to bleed openly (only the weak
hide their wounds) & old habits die hard –

I cut myself on the kitchen knife tonight
and he says the food tastes good;

sleep always evades me until I climb onto the
rooftop, watch the moon gorge itself

on a sky swollen with hope, sometime between
today & tomorrow, my eyelids close;

I shudder awake when I feel her pulling
on my tongue, telling me I talk in my sleep;

Even now, five years later, she is as present as ever,
sprinkling ashes in my tea (everything lodges in my throat);

Lately I’ve started apologizing to the walls, I think maybe
she is listening, maybe this is why she haunts me,

(maybe I am crazy, he says) but I keep searching
for traces of her. once I kneel in the bathroom,

chant her name and I can feel her sliding against
my skin, imagine her watching me;

I whisper sorries at the mirror, head bowed, incense
smoking hot against my palm. I don’t know whether

she accepts my apology but for months after,
I don’t look for her in the shattered crockery;

Old habits die hard but I’ve stopped cracking myself
open to examine the pain.

I think some days are easier than others.

By Rachana Hegde

Biography:

Rachana Hegde is a sixteen year old part-time poet from India who collects words & other oddities. You can usually find her reading on her kindle or daydreaming about characters from abandoned writing projects. Her poetry has been published by or is forthcoming in: Germ Magazine, Textploit, The Fem and Vagabond City. Read more of her work at www.ink-smudgedfingers.tumblr.com.