Hopscotch

Welcome Reader, let’s play hopscotch:

It’s midnight, and you’re all alone

With naught but Morrissey as friend

Who whispers words into your ear

Of how it’s all over, and then

You get a notif on your phone:

Your ex just liked your story on

Instagram. And now a million

Thoughts assume form inside your head.

How will you proceed? Make a choice:

Verse 1 to just check their profile.

Verse 2 to blindly message back.

Verse 3 to try and get some sleep.

Verse 1:

The prick in your heart reminds you-

Love still exists. And hungry is.

So, heart makes demand of fingers

To type a name that once had home

On your lips permanently, or

So you wished. Fingers oblige, and

Eyes follow to find a face still

So beautiful, a body which

Held yours once and called you lover

Now draped on another’s body.

Of course, this makes you want to die,

Among a lot of other things.

Verse 4 to leave a mean comment.

Verse 3 to leave it well alone.

Verse 2:

With not a thought, you’re transported

To an age past when thoughtlessly

Any thought or inkling of it

Would jump from brain to messages,

And it seems muscle memory

Has made it so before you know

There’s words on the text box, next to

SEND, which is clicked even before

The brain can comprehend. Panic

Follows, of course, but within it

There’s a thing with feathers, that thinks

What if I can have it all back?

Proceed to Verse 5.

Verse 3:

There’s not much Morrissey has said

That should be listened to except

The immortal chorus within

The third song of The Queen is Dead

(Google That for Extra Points)

Which you now softly sing yourself

Eyes watering but bravely held

As you drift to much welcomed sleep.

End Poem

Verse 4:

Love’s opposite was never hate.

In fact, indifference wears that crown.

Hate is but love’s obverse. That’s why

No matter what words you write down

They only cut you deep. Tattered.

Anemic. Almost, lightheaded

You must now move back to Verse 3.

Verse 5:

As swiftly as hope came, it left.

It’s midnight, they can’t even see

Your messages, and if they did

Why would they answer to late texts

From an ex-lovers? Or, what if

They have another, which surely

Can’t be the case right? You must check.

So, go back to Verse 1 and see.

Sameen Shakya’s poems have been published in Alternate Route, Cosmic Daffodil, Hearth and Coffin, Roi Faineant and Thin Veil Press, to name a few. Born and raised in Kathmandu, Nepal, he moved to the USA in 2015 to pursue writing. He earned an Undergraduate Degree in Creative Writing from St Cloud State University and traveled the country for a couple of years to gain a more informal education. He returned to Kathmandu in 2022 and is currently based there.