Soundless on my flaking wall, you
rest like a sniper in frigid fear,
I remember the last of your semblance,
Your teething temptation grows moss.
You melt into a cardboard box,
peeling by the rims bit by bit,
like an old man's torch
you flicker in the dark, then blacken away,
scintillating into some disposed echo
soaring like vapor–up and gone.
You take with you fractions of my ailing youth;
you weld with the years I have left behind.
Nobody remembers your silence but I
grow weary of your taunting summons.
I am only a ripple of who I used to be,
delicately seeping through the soils of my becoming;
weightless in my conceived aura,
I step into a cautious light.
Snata Basu is an aspiring poet from Dhaka, Bangladesh. Her work mostly centers on passionate, personal bindings. She is currently pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature at North South University.