← cd ..

some shards stay buried

By Aishani Chaudhuri

        <!DOCTYPE html>
            <title>—some shards stay buried</title>
            promises {
                color: warm and bright;
                weight: often heavier than intended;
                tucked-into: hearts inside of souls, where they take root and blossom— into hope, 
                //that insidious thing
                glowing orbs of it;

            promises.broken {
                oh-: cold, splintered, fragmented: ruby fractures embedded deep, 
                sometimes forgotten,
                always painful,
            you've been told, haven't you,
            that you oughtn't to make 
            <promises that:"you don't intend to keep">;
            did anyone ever tell you that promises,
            despite not being meant to be broken,
            often are—
            they are brittle things,
            you can't be too careful with them;

            did anyone ever tell you that promises,
            they're like gifts—
            you cannot give one if
            it isn't taken, and in the taking is trusting. 
            trust is brittle, too;

            where do you keep intangible things you've been given?
            in you, somewhere,
            and when they break, where do the pieces go?

            did anyone ever tell you,
            const anyPromise = new Promise((resolve, reject) => {
                let anyPromise = made in childhood;

                if (kept forever) {
                    LogicalError: Impossible Condition.
                else {
                    b for brittle, blistered, bloody.
                    h for hearts not yet fully grown.
                    p for painful promise-pieces stuck deep within.
                    l for lives shaped around broken trust, resin around flies.

            did no one ever tell you not to makes promises to children,
            because, when young, you believe, you trust endlessly-
            because, when broken, they hurt-
            because, when cut, you don't know to heal-

            i wish, for my sake, that you'd been told.
Aishani Chaudhuri is a word-lover and high school junior living in Hong Kong. She writes poetry when the inspiration hits, and has been recognised for it by the Hong Kong Young Writers Awards, the Indian Consulate of Hong Kong, and Ohanga. She has been playing the piano since she was three, and in her spare time chooses to ignore the eight year olds who play better than she ever has and instead likes to read, learn and experiment with anything that catches her fancy.