your hair, purple. and so is the sky
in the way that scares me. the familiarity
sends me back to a week i wish never came to be.
every teardrop, a singeing sensation against my skin.
every rip in our seams,
ringing through the apartment
like thunderclaps.
i miss what never was and will never be again,
i wonder when the end of the end will begin.
i didn’t notice when the lights went out,
but now it’s dark out as far as the eye can see.
but you turned away
and turned your volume all the way down to mute
so when the sirens rang clear through the city
and it brought me to my knees
you weren’t where you should have been.
you didn’t see what you should have seen.
the beginning of the end;
with no one left to set the scene.
previously self-published in Tuneless, November 2019
Komal Keshran describes herself elsewhere as a “young writer with a vision to change the world via art.” Interested in language and math, she has studied accounting in Kuala Lumpur in addition to writing poetry. Her work can be found in publications such as 100/100 Home, The Write Launch, APIARY 9: Sanctuary, Apeiron Review, and The Bluffton University Literary Journal, as well as in her own collection, Tuneless, published in November 2019.
Sparks of Calliope 