I cry to sleep, I eat your memories – Parisha Dutta

I am already divided
into believing and placing myself to the faith
that I am still building
although this makes me kakoneirophobic
without the sleep that shuts eyes and gives snores.
But every night I go to be confidently
without tying myself to the knot
on my bed railing,
I defeat sleep-walking like
ants defeat human fingers.
I count alphabets from A to Z
but I omit the letter V everytime
because I lost both valentine and virginity to my fear.
Frickle subconciousness says, “You are fine young lady!”
but as soon as the treadmill stops
and my bin-bag welcomes me,
I am all again into things I shouldn’t be in.
Like love. Like hate.
Not all coffee dates lead to another.
Some just end with the first lay.