accepting grief, and its falsities.


you have slowly come to terms with how the skywalk curves into your clavicle when the last songs on my i-pod loses its record into the unsynchronized stuttering of a crowd.

this day has become schizophrenic, and more paranoid than the country weeks during world war II; but you trace the back alleys of a dead city, where grief is dragged like a prostitute and sold into a brothel of hand-me-down memories.


there is a road crawling down the planes of your shoulder blades and curling into the ridges of your spine before valleying into your ribs. i have walked that road with half a lung full of cigarette ashes and a palm desperately pretending to read braille, as if scars tended to be the best poets, who wrote in a language the literate could never apprehend.

you still remain unexplained.

yesterday, i had spent three hours talking to gods who couldn’t seem to remember my name. maybe we spoke of you in hushed tongues, or maybe i just kept arguing with that part of my brain that is beginning to understand you more than my heart ever did.


there is a lie lying between your fingers and mine, when i reach for the sun as it goes down and you stretch for that fraction of sea that has never seen light. it’s the same lie the birds have taken to whisper and die trying to finish when the air thickens, and the next breath comes like a 4 am nightmare- you just can’t recall.

••ari purkayastha

3 thoughts on “accepting grief, and its falsities.

  1. I feel dont have the words. You described my life almost to a T minus the fact the love i have for someone is very real and nowhere near a lie. But I know it looks that way to her. For sure. My brain is horrid at steering my heart and nerves go haywire. She is no saint by any means but I felt like that is something she would say to me if “fuck off” wasnt her initial response and she felt the need to elaborate. *Chuckles* Good words. You ever publish a book. Im buying on the date it comes out. Respect. I enjoy your talent. Very much so. Rock on.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Love is strange I think. But it’s good that she’s fighting you. Keeps you around doesn’t it..? And thank you! I don’t think I’ll write a book anytime in the next couple of years. Hoping to get a little more experience under my belt before I take that step. It’s a huge one. Even the thought of it terrifies me lol😂


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