Invisible Wounds

A hurt
So deep
It bled profusely
For hours
Gushing out the Red
In spurts
Drenching
Whatever was put
In its way.
But what about the Cut
Which still lies
Slashed, Open
Deep inside
Camouflaged by the
Now not so bright
Outer shell
spurting sorrow
All the while.
The oozings
Loose their way
While staying
Within the contours
Of the Shell
Not disappearing altogether
For
There is
A constant flow...
Does He too experience
What I do?
Born of me
Perhaps He does!
To assume
That He could be
Bereft
Of such emotions
Creates a stir
Within me
The ripples of which
I try to ignore.
For,
To numb myself
I have learnt;
But sometimes
I fail!
His pain is painful to me!
My physical pains hurt me no more;
But what about him? ! ?

by Saikat Poddar

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