ATHARVA DESHPANDE

Stolen Painting

I stole a painting of the ocean
from my mother’s house
and nailed it to my wall
like it owed me something.

Last night I drank too much,
cheap stuff,
made of tiger bones in brandy,
and when I finally collapsed
into sleep,
the damn ocean came with me.

Now, in this cracked-open midnight,
the room sways
like a ship that’s sick of sailing.

I can hear the sea growling
behind the drywall,
pulling at me
like it wants a piece.

The waves slam around in my head,
a hangover with salt on its teeth.

Moonlit water climbs
the walls of my skull,
looking for the same old heart
it’s been trying to drown
for years.

And suddenly I’m a kid again,
toes in sand,
waiting for the tide to change,
waiting for something gentle
that never came.

But the tide doesn’t care
for timing.
It rises, it falls,
it ruins.

Same as life.
Same as last night’s bottle.

This ocean,
real or painted,
dreamed or remembered,
won’t shut up.

It keeps breaking
somewhere inside me,
and I’m too hungover
to fight it.

So, I just lie here,
letting the whole damn sea
wash through my bones,
hoping it takes something
I don’t need anymore.

Atharva Deshpande is an Indian poet, writer, and actor based in Stratford-upon-Avon, England. His work explores love, memory, migration, and emotional displacement, often examining the tension between modern life and the inner world. He is the author of Begin Again and is currently completing his second poetry collection, Paper Moon, a book about intimacy, loss, and acceptance. Alongside writing, he works in the motion-control technology industry and continues to pursue storytelling across poetry, film, and theatre.