I swing against the wind everynight,
to feel the gush of it.
I try to hold it in my hands,
but everytime it slips and take away a part of me,
a part that I don’t remember.
I have chased it in the past,
I am chasing it now too.
And it takes me to the window with cracks,
that tempts me to touch it,
like a bird soaring high into the sky in a
dark cloudy night.
And it scars my hands, but
strangely I feel no pain.
-Kusum
k's word 