Arundhati

I choke under a weight, evenly.

My walls drop down in Paris.

How did you find me?

I was walking past the black-bell house and you found me,

You weren't supposed to.

But,

Even then,

Were we even supposed to know each other?

I was supposed to know you, after much thought.

Were you supposed to know me?

This is monologue. You hate such.

You make sycamores sing like thrush.

They're chokin' chokin' chokin' me, dead.

I meet you at a park, you wring my hands, afraid of false fame.

Afraid of shame.

You brought baggages for me to keep.

I brought a lullaby for you to sleep.

Walking past you is shame for me, so much so.

I forget my pains. I forget our names. I forget where we had sex. You pain me. I die, live, die, live, die.

And then I vanish in Paris, forever.

 

Fault in my stars.