Sharon Eappen

It's the feeling of feeling nothing, however hard you try. It's the feeling of an aching heart that's had too much, a chest that's too tired to take deep breaths in or a body that's too tired to get out of bed. Numb. But not numbness of the flesh, numbness of the mind. It's when there's so much to do and you don't know how to. It's when there's too little to think about and hardly any time to write something like this down. It's the feeling of pain, pressure and expectations succumbing you to the point where you actually need air, where you can truly appreciate going out for an evening walk. It's when you think you'll be the luckiest person on the planet if you get time to watch the sunset or stargaze because it's one of those therapies that can fill what you've lost and with what you love. It's when you feel you can't feel anything because you've become a robot - mechanically fulfilling your task...

Why are you tearing apart So easily When you're the first in which I've scribbled so much? Is a little less than four years Already tiring you? Or is it my ink and graphite That's too heavy For your thin pages to hold? The pages that could make Any gel pen or highlighter Bleed through. The pages that are so thin, I could see the ink of the Next page, if I tried enough. But is staying with me, Staying intact, for a few more Years, a little too much To ask for? Is your aging faster Than mine? Probably. Because what you Hold inside is so deep And so profound and so enchanting. And may be every finger-touch Robs off a little of your Youthfulness. That look you had When I first saw you. But still, dear Bible, Is staying intact For a few more years A little too much To ask for?