Remembering You

How many more afternoons spent perched on the corner of my bed

Surrounded by washed, wrinkled clothes that smell of soap and sun?

How many more baths with John Mayer’s voice for company, my hands

Scrubbing feverishly, hoping you’d dissolve with the foam that swims into the drain?

How many more nights where the snakes slither from my stomach to my chest

Till my words are choked out and a river is born out of my body?

.

I remember the smile the perfect teeth that spilled into my universe the happiness that your smile planted in me the happiness a shrub watered by your voice your voice which I loved more than any other’s which quietened my heart even when you were angry even when we fought just as long as I got to hear it your long thick arms that I thought would hold all the shaking parts of me without dropping a piece your face so big my palms couldn’t cover it yet I tried anyway to feel all of it while you laughed showing your perfect teeth and your voice resonated in my smiles my words my thoughts as your arms held me closer and tighter not breaking the pieces but marking them all

.

I remember I remember I remember I remember I remember

They say one day it’ll hurt a little less

When is one day?

Will it come as fast as the day

You gave away your arms your smile your eyes your voice

To someone new?

How much is a little less?

Enough for me to think of you with a smile

The same smile that you created, whose expanse

You first discovered?

Cliche

This poem is a cliche,

Like all small revelations are.

.

Today I learned

You can love

And not be together.

.

It was nice to talk.

It is always nice to hear your voice,

Even though it hurts now.

.

Today, we smiled, and it felt good

These tiny steps we take

To navigate the terrains we leaped over.

And I learned to appreciate another shade of

All that matters is love.

.

Today, I knew I would love you, always

And that we would not be together

And that was okay. Today I smiled

I hope you did too.

Death by Candlelight

Day#10 of IntrotoPoetry

Prompt: Future

I was supposed to complete this challenge days ago, but thinking about the future is something I just don’t do, or to be more accurate, something I avoid doing. But, a challenge is a challenge, and I am a woman of my word. So here goes. 

Today I cooked under candlelight.

The tube light in the kitchen had gone off with a pop,

And we used candles saved up from a Diwali when we

Almost burned our house for light near the stove.

.

Under candlelight, everything softened. The onions glowed

Shyly, turning pink in a pool of yellow. The garlic seemed to melt

Like butter. And I thought, in the future, when life seems tough,

I should just light a candle to watch it turn softer.

.

Five minutes later, the curry burned to death.

Your Room

Day#9 of IntrotoPoetry

Prompt: Landscape

Device: Apostrophe

I think of your room sometimes

The penthouse on the fourth floor.

I loved the balcony and the huge windows

You always covered them up though.

I liked the darkness also, and the lamp light

That threw shadows all around the room, and your face.

.

It was a kind room. Especially on that evening we lay

My hands tracing lines on your wall and pulling at your poster

You talking on and on. I listened, feeling happy

That we were friends. That we could talk, again.

.

Now when I think of you, I think of your room

And imagine you to be kind, like the soft lights

That kissed both of us, as we lay in a world of our own.

A New Year

Day#8 of IntrotoPoetry

Prompt: Pleasure

Device: Anaphora

 

On a wintry morning, she wakes

Regretfully leaving behind layers of heavy quilts

And the welcoming, warm limbs of her sleeping roommates.

 

On a wintry morning, she turns the tap

The water is merciless in its icy gush

Her fingers turn numb as she gazes at the fog outside.

 

On a wintry morning, she changes

Goosebumps immediately cover her

An inadequate blanket against trembling skin.

 

On a wintry morning, she sips

The coffee shares its heat with her.

Dressed now, she’s ready to leave.

 

On a wintry morning, she lingers

The most peaceful of smiles tracing her face

This year, this January, her happiness surprises her.

A Little Extra Salt

Day#7 of IntrotoPoetry

Prompt: Flavour

 

My mother always said,  “a little extra salt means the dish is made with a lot of love.”

When I come home, your gaze is so unbearable

My eyes fill with salt.

Away, now, in this cold city,

I lick a bit of salt off my finger

In the middle of cooking, and I

Think of you, in your kitchen,

Tapping a little gravy off the spoon

Into your palm, and smiling..

 

 

Remembrance

Day#6 of IntrotoPoetry

Prompt: Screen

Device: Enjambment

Black night. The cold screened

By two layers of blankets, inside which

It is darker still, but warm. Suddenly, a buzz.

A tiny screen lights up, a thin arm stretches

Out of the warmth, braving the cold

To see who it could be, thinking of her, in spite of

The cold

And the warmth of blanket cocoons.