There’s a town on the far side of my conscience,

I call it Ghostville

It’s built upon the graves of my unspoken words, reveries, feelings.


Feelings I never could express to you

Reveries that drenched my pillow late at night

Words that only poured through as wails, deafened under my sheets.


Ghostville, unsurprisingly, is haunted—

Haunted by memories of you.

The phantoms emerge as I press the play button of our song,

They seep through the hallways where we first met,

They unveil through old photo albums.


I’m sorry to say but another phone call, another exchange of smiles,

Another array of our discreet glances will not uproot this town.

It feeds on my sadness and drowns me

In the words I believed were best left unsaid.


This is the last time I’ll write of you.

Knowing you couldn’t care less but I’ve been silent too long

And my melancholia is seeping out of my skin.


It’s time to burn Ghostville once and for all,

I can watch these phantoms be engulfed by liberating flames

Maybe that’ll give me the closure you never could.


Goodbye, you.

 – Tanvi Kamra, Lotus Valley International School, Noida


Leave a Reply