Inside My Bag

As I walked along the bumpy street,

my back suddenly arched low with weariness

as the sling of my back pack didn’t

let its grip slip away from my shoulders

which from overweening turned

to over whining. With that I decided

to seek refuge under the shade

of an ol’ mango tree and lay down

my backpack to rest; my punished back

slowly inclined itself

to its usual thrasonical poise.

It was a burden, my bag,

but my cracked lips curved up

like a small boat that remained buoyant

on a still lake as it glinted

under the modest eye of the night;

I unzipped my bag. Inside was a man

who had his own backpack slung

on him, yet unlike me, his face

was rejuvenated with dews of calmness;

he raised his head and beamed.

His backpack was enormous

and bulkier, and my weariness pushed

my tongue into pleading him

to drop his thing soon, yet his face

was a temptation; my mind suddenly turned

into a clean slate; everything

was flushed out. I smiled back.

Suddenly, his bag twitched as if

it had its own life. His head abruptly

twisted back to stare at it

as my cherries popped out of its sockets

when the bag unzipped itself and

out came a woman and a young girl.

His eyes swung back to me

as it pumped tears of fear

after the invincible armor of his secret

was demolished; his parting mouth would

soon let out a sound of reasoning

but I didn’t let him gain his ground;

I told him that I wouldn’t

carry the three of them,

but his response rankled my calm

demeanor; so I yanked it away

and he yelped in agony; it was

stitched down to his spine.

My heart melted in agony

and disgrace even with the cold

blood streaming in my veins. He was

embraced by his backpack for a long time

yet I never noticed how tenacious

his attachment was to it.

I could snap him out of it,

but it was either he dies

or turns to a paralyzed statue,

so I didn’t. My eyes got wet;

I wanted to squeeze it

but my behemoth pride got

the best of me; as I turned

to leave, my man wriggled his way

out of my bag. I paused

to see him suffer for a little

while longer and then, closing

my eyes, I shifted the center

of gravity to my hand

and push him back inside

the suffocating tightness of my bag

and let my fingers tread

the rough zipper highway

as I put a close to it.

And just like that, he was gone

like a normal day in the calendar

that flips itself hurriedly

to the next one. My eyes exploded

into gloomy waterworks; there

was no way it could be ceased.

I snatched my heart out

of its cage and dropped it

to the ground; I turned

and move ahead.

Maybe another man

without a bag stitched to his spine

would find it and pick it up. Hoping

that he would find me

and return it to where it belongs;

definitely not inside my bag.

About The Poem:

This is dedicated to a friend of mine whom once in her life got tangled up with a man under the oath of marriage. She did drop him out of her life, though, and moved on. Although up until this moment, she was still hoping that some other guy, even without a shining armor but one with dignity, would pick up the spot where she left of.