What you don’t know
They say will kill you
Does that mean knowing you
Is the reason for my fate

Broken bangles, chocolate wrappers
Innocent days of innocent love
Broken promises, bleeding heart
Call it the result of growing up

Like the monsoon thunder
Lashes of lightning
Bolts of electricity coursing through
Threatening to take everything down

Call of the dawn, strike of the clock
Up you went, not a glance back
What use trying to cry
Rivers that have already run dry

What you don’t know
It is you whose knees buckled
I will still be the tree
The one that nurtures and heals.

This post is for Day 2 on BarAThon, the prompt being What You Don’t Know

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Bhavya

Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.

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