Poetry 2017 Shortlist Aishwarya Singh

The Myriad

This isn't how it had been.
This was a different world
That I knew nothing about.
What I knew had been something else.
Not this clear blue sky,
Nor this fresh air breathe.
Not the warmth of the rising sun,
Nor the glee of exploring birds.
It had been like a blizzard –
A fuzz of chill;
A spout of abandon;
A slate of white, meaningless lies.
It had been like a sandstorm –
A blur of nothingness;
A suffocating sourness;
A sheet of ragged, unclear interpretations.
It had been like a volcanic eruption -
A blast of mortification;
A tarnished emotion;
An envelope of lethal longing.
It wasn't what it should’ve been.
It wasn’t conventionally beautiful.
It didn't make sense;
And yet, I was addicted.
It was a pathetic web of lies.
It was a pebble tossed into oblivion.
It was a waist deep pool of quicksand –
A bottomless abyss that didn't yield.
It didn't have a clear definition.
It didn't understand evident understanding.
It was a hazy silhouette –
A shadow hovering.
It was all and nothing –
A stark contrast to what I wanted.
I didn't know how I came to receive it.
Yet, I'd only ever known how to live with it.
But now I finally don't have it anymore,
And I don't know what to do with myself.
Because despite whatever I used to think,
It was the only way you knew how to love me.