Disappearing from the face of this planet.
And soon I won’t be able to remember a thing About the microwave or the kettle in the kitchen whistling its heart out We loved for a minute right Showered for nine minutes and fifty seconds Ate pistachios for supper Did laundry on Sundays so we could sit on it Wrote on our wrists so we could save on paper We won’t grow old together Old is what we are together I can tell you right now I won’t die on your bed I am so tired of your bed and your warm hands The sink is full of dishes and the sheets are dirty The trees are tired of standing and the birds are forgetting to fly There is nothing here for you to come back to You have to say no this time Loud and clear Please I beg of you There is so much relief now And oh we never had kids
Ayesha Bashir, (she/her) is an interdisciplinary artist from Karachi, Pakistan, now based in NYC. Her work is driven by slow cinema, seahorses, and dramatic poetry. She is a recent graduate of Bennington College and works at Multitude Films.
Instagram: horrormones46