They Still Ask for Ink

in most of my dreams
familiar faces greet me

i am back at school
stuck between the same benches
in the same row
with the same faces
smiling back at me

seeing them there
brings a sharp pain
an ache somewhere
beneath my heart

years have passed

i went to college
then university
left one life
and entered another

but in the dream
none of that matters

somehow
they have moved through the years with me
still in the same grade
still inside the same classroom

learning different lessons
without ever growing older

the same age
the same uniform
the same tie
the same conversations
the same playful eyes

no
this cannot be happening

every time
i shout into the dream

why are you all following me

you do not belong
in my world anymore

i have a different life now

please
stop following me

but they never listen

they come closer
as though not a single day has passed

do you have a sharpener

have you got any spare ink

my fountain pen
is almost empty

then they begin again
with their ridiculous love stories
laughing as though the bell
will never ring

and there she is

sitting in the middle
of her friends

her face turned towards me
watching silently

i ask her

why are you still here

i have found someone
who loves me now

but she does not listen

she still wants
more poems from me

she still wants me
to follow her
like the hopeless romantic
i once was

all right i tell her

i will return your autobook

now please
stop chasing me
through my dreams

but she does not listen

neither do my school friends
whose voices still sound
exactly the same

though i have not spoken to them
for more than fifteen years

they remain beside their desks
waiting patiently

holding out an empty fountain pen
as though all this time
i had been carrying
the missing ink

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2 responses to “They Still Ask for Ink”

  1. Sheknowsallblog Avatar

    The way you’ve used the dream as a space where time collapses is perfect. Your school friends are frozen, your younger self is trapped explaining things that can’t be explained, and worst of all—she’s there, silent, still expecting you to be the romantic poet who once wrote for her. The repetition of their requests (‘do you have a sharpener, have you got any spare ink’) feels almost threatening in its persistence. You can’t outrun your own past because you’re still carrying it. Powerful work…

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Frain Chakrit Avatar

      Thank you so much. I love how deeply you understood the poem. Those ordinary requests for a sharpener and spare ink feel innocent, yet strangely unsettling because they keep pulling me back into a life I thought I had left behind 🙂 🌼

      Liked by 1 person

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