City Lights

Nights are long,
In the city.
Where lights won’t
And the shadows
Won’t disappear.

Friendly smiles
At the door,
Kisses in the dark
Of the moon.
Lips tainted with liquor,
Tongues painted in smoke.

It’s the routine
Of the dead-
Of thawing
empty hearts.

You’re like me;
Chasing the ends
Of an emptiness
That won’t run out.

Of an absent thrill,
And crinkled sheets
In a bed of lies
That won’t come untrue.

We’ve come a long way-
Preying on people
When things don’t entertain.

Light conversation,
A hearty laugh.
A late night cigarette-
In the guise of
A good time.

Sharing yourself
With throwaway promises-
Waking up to
A forgotten night,
With only the aftertaste
Of an anaesthetic.

“Quit brooding!
Let your hair down.”

You bubble to the surface,
Rise to the beat.
To a great fall-
That doesn’t falter
The vacant space.

Digging yourself
Into a hole,
Drowning yourself
In turbulent waters.

Is this what it feels
To be alive?

Stop it;
Stop the pain
That won’t let you feel.

You’ve made your bed;
A new visitor at dusk.
Darkness comes to waste,
When hands burn in haste.

Dawns are bright,
Illuminated in desires
That the warmth of
a portable June
Won’t cure.

“Your place or mine?”
What’s the rush-
When there’s only
Emptiness that follows?

Breathing in,
The cloud of smog.
Of no memories
That churn-
As the heart remains unturned.

You’re ruining yourself,
And all the world’s a witness.

How will the city
Ever sleep
When the nightmares
Are left to turn havoc?

Morning will come,
And the sun will rise.
And you’ll be left-
With plans of an escape
that would never suffice.

Of spending the dark hours,
Preying on souls.
Of a fulfilment that
Never comes.

~Simran Khurana


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