Shreya Bahirat

Unpacking my bag,

in the golden gloom

of my room,

adrift I go

into a deep crimson:

the unpacking of my heart.

It’s deepest fears,

and biggest regrets,

its hopes and its dreams,

with stains of pain

and souvenirs of reprisals,

unfolding in the

palm of your hands.

I still wonder

if your hands

were too small

or the contents

of my heart too big,

or were they so grainy,

you let them slip

through your fingers

like sand.

Now darling,

the clothes

in this old bag

smell of you

and I

and cigarettes.


So, just in case you’ve been smoking some odds too,

let me tell you-

Those were the days I came to you naked;

now I shall not come to you at all.



Shreya Bahirat

Shreya Bahirat

Just a girl who likes to read, write and day-dream. | Film-maker | Photographer.