I’m booking myself a one way flight,
Packing chips and chocolates
In containers air tight,
Sometimes flying means seat tied sitting,
Soaring high with metal wings,

Or smoking in circles and rings
Forgetting the shallow human existence.

I’m booking myself a one way flight,
I’m carrying our favourite playlist,
Our broken conversations and pending kisses,
I’m dumping traces of you and less of myself
In a bulky bag,
Thinking if I could only take the bag
And leave the baggage behind.

I’m booking myself a one way flight,
To see my eyes less tired and dry,
I’d welcome with wide open arms,
The sulking sea and the sinking sand,
The taste of salt in the breath of the air,
I’ll make new memories like paper boats,
Keeping ours safe in my pockets that are out of my reach
I’ll drown in the alcoholic ocean of emotions
And temporarily survive.

I’m booking myself a one way flight,
To a land where park benches don’t know our names,
From where the Moon looks down at me and still smiles,
I want to touch spaces so wild and insane,
And let lose of all the love I have trapped within,
Waking up to the smell of our home
Where I believe you never left my hand.

– Aekta Khubchandani