- Boxes, locks and safes just to hide from your inescapable self -

Olfactory memory;
Odor molecules
That go straight,
Oh, straight to the brain.

Yet…

Not a teardrop,
Not a litany,
Not even a lemon ice cream
From the box labeled
“Past”.

Is there a light
To let me see
Its contents and feel
Precisely the way I used to?
(you know, human)

Meanwhile words fly
Like stones thrown at my face
Bollywood stones - empty inside -
Thrown by the aggression
Of a fake personality.

I sit and think
About the lie
And the pretended new start
Of a life made of polystyrene.

Looking at a man
I thought simply imperfect,
I now see a puppet
That holds his strings
While I check my wings
And see if I’m ready to fly.

Store pain in the apposite drawer
Don’t you own a safe for your
Compromising stuff;
Don’t you mistrust yourself
Enough to run/hide from others?

The more you flaunt,
The more you lose
The self-respect that you gave up
The day you decided
You weren’t good enough
To love yourself.

I touched them in the dark
They were dry and fake
Contact lenses
Like condoms
Between you and the world.