I am not ready to be a failure yet.

Still, the surreal smell of unborn sunshine
clings to my sleeves like a child.
Still, I see me bare feet
on a sandy beach
in the summer of my discontent.
Still, water rubs on my arms
like it has things to tell.
Still, in the pit of my stomach
fear lives like a beautiful agony.
Still, I want love
that'll never be chocolate and flowers.
Still, I see friendship that'll survive.

I am not ready to be a failure yet.
The world's too ravishing,
the sky's too much.

I have things to catch up on,
Mrs. Dalloway's party and such.
I can't bail on her.
The purity of happiness,
she holds that.
 

Sumaya Mashrufa is a writer and poet based in Dhaka.