MY BLUE DENIM

 In the side pockets of

my blue denim

i carry my regret, neatly folded

like a crisp white paper.

Sometimes I let my

blood to draw pictures 

over it and wonder how 

beautiful this shade of red is..

I know I cannot go back in time

I can't be that girl in pony tails

laughing her heart out.

I can't sing under breath

while running towards

our old chembaka tree.

Now I live in a castle of memories,

thunderstruck nights burning

my yellow coloured flowers.

Coffee stains on the pages

of my favorite book,

hiding my tear dots.

I hide the cuts in my hands

and so the bleeding heart

yet sometimes I get tensed

like a girl in the days of her menstruation.

My words are shutting the doors

on my face, 

names and faces in a 

muddy pit of oblivion_

the impotent brain of 

an immature girl.

Yet I carry my regret

neatly folded and  carefully takes it

to remind myself that

I have something to loss.

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