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Writer's pictureAkanksha B.

Wrecked Painting: A Poem

I'd almost forgotten myself.


Thought I'd never find the previous me

after I lost myself,

and the person I lost myself to.


And to think

someone would come around,

picking up every shattered piece of mine,

caressing them

and sticking them together

like a work of art,

only better,

was far beyond my dreams.



But as life has shown me time and again,

it is only when you least expect the prize,

will it arrive.


Your arrival seemed like it was meant to be.

But to believe


that someone so beautiful

can coexist with me,

again difficult.


As far as I can recall,

I only pushed you,

pushed your emotions off.

The fear of fake,

the fear of the wrong beholder,

the ruins yet not remade.



Never letting you in.

A wall so deep and so tall.

You took a step every day,

how did I never see it.


Every time I looked at you,

you seemed right where you were.

And so I never left that page too.

But you'd slowly moved ahead,

and there I was,

the lost Rabbit.


Nevertheless,

here you are.

Here I am.

Here we are.


Only you know,

what you saw in this wreckage.

Something,

I guess,

for you stayed.

And hence, I survived.


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