I go off the Internet.
I pick up a cigarette.

I burn more ashtrays.
For my forever of 107 days.

Around I have built a shell.
And today, I won’t rebel.

I have learned to let it go.
Stumbling, steady, slow.

I suppress it and I slay.
Corroding my soul every day.

There’s saltiness to the core.
I know I won’t love anymore.

Or maybe I won’t be able to.
I have no, no fucking clue.

You were my last awe.
Now I’m drenched in onsra.

Onsra: Loving for the last time; that bittersweet feeling you get when you know a love won’t last. (Bodo Language, India)

(Bodo Language, India)