i might sustain

reader, i don't know you.

i don't know what my words

bring to you.

have i ever made you feel safe?

i sure doubt it.

my head is a mess.

my poems are the apples of discord.

they bring chaos much like eris.

reader, why do you still read?

what do my words bring to you?

i vent my pelted up emotions

with unorderly words that make

less or no meaning to you.

have i ever made you feel better?

what do you have in mind

when you read 

my incoherent word building?

in your mind, what am i?

tell me, reader, have you ever read me?

have you ever tried prying into 

the tightly packed set of words

to get a glimpse of the real me?

reader, i am tired.

words flow heavier these days.

it's getting harder to see things clearly.

the voice in my head 

is dying in the din of reality.

sometimes, reader, i am very afraid.

will a day come 

when i could no longer 

reach you out?

will a day come

when i could no longer 

address you, reader?

i don't know what my words mean to you.

but to me, they are hands

stretched out for an embrace.

reader, they are no pleasing hands

but they yearn an embrace.

do you sense the tension

of a reluctant ending?

i am afraid it might befall us.

before that, grab my many arms.

give me the million embraces.

i might sustain.

reader, i might sustain.

Gayathri Tamilselvan

April 11