Gift Box

Here’s an inward looking, woman-centric poem from Sushmita. An evocative poem for Different Truths.

Even though,
I am no one,
Or nothing,
To you,
Strangely,
I became,
Your gift box,
That keeps,
Giving.

You marvel,
At my giving,
And at my gifts.
They keep flowing,
Endlessly.
You keep seeking,
And you keep finding.

Because,
I am jagged,
I am high,
I am fervent,
At the same time.

Because,
I honestly,
Detail my journey.

Because,
I peel,
Later by layer,
And,
I am intense,
At the core.

Because,
I wantonly desire,
Discovery,
Of self and more.

Because,
I pursue,
Relentlessly,
Clarity in my mind.

Because,
I seek,
Escape,
Through memory,
Like a child.

Because,
I am vulnerable,
And let be altered,
All the time.

Because,
I display,
My fragility,
And appear needy,
When I feel so.

Because,
Stuffy relationships,
And lies,
To me,
Feels totally,
Like a death row.

Because,
I am shamelessly,
Parched for affection,
For affirmation.
Because,
I write,
Laboriously,
While in love,
Or out of it,
You know.
I am,
Your gift box,
That keeps,
Giving,
Without asking,
For anything more.

Picture design Anumita Roy