One last look at the letters you wrote me.
I laugh now because it’s hilarious;
No, not the letter
Or you, for that matter.
It’s me that I’m mocking—
The stupid little girl I used to be,
Who believed your empty promises.
Now that it’s all in the past,
These letters must go, too,
Torn apart and burnt to ashes—
The way you did my heart, remember?
There’s no ‘water under the bridge’,
That bridge collapsed long ago,
My love for you with it.
If only the forgotten are truly dead,
You’re now dead to me,
And I’m not sorry that it feels so good.
∼ © Shubhangi Srinivasan.
Hey everyone! In the spirit of National Poetry Writing Month, I will be writing some poems for every day of April. Each Day will have a new prompt. I hope I can keep up with the challenge. You can join me in celebrating #NaPoWriMo 2019 and check out the prompts here. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.