By Vaishali Ranganathan
I hear a sound in the dark.
It sounds like the way you whistle.
I enjoy it from the dark.
For in the daylight, it's all an illusion.
Memories attack me with their blunt ends.
For sharp ends cause pain just once
while blunt ends keep bruising me
Again. Yet again.
And I let it. Yet again.
The wind caresses my bare back
A soothing hand against the lines of my body
Which were once made of the verses you wrote in my name.
You took away all that ink, leaving just the imprints behind.
To give form to those.
A chill arises in my body
It longs for your warm arms wrapped tight around me.
But now, the wind hugs me, when you won't.
I hear the thunder.
A storm brews outside.
I hear the phantom sweet nothings you had whispered.
A storm brews inside.
Lightning strikes and illumines the world.
My soul shines.
I'm one with nature.
The clouds are brimming with water, much like my eyes.
A raindrop falls on my cheek erasing the poetry
That fell there from your lips.
It mimics my tears
I won't cry.
A pink blossom
Rests above my ear, moving with the breeze
Rustling the hair there, like the way your breath used to.
My shoulders ache
Without the familiar weight, of your elbows over them
Which comforted them.
Now the space above feels empty
Without you here.
My forehead tingles
Remembering the kisses
By your sweet lips.
My lips now kiss the air
Hoping that they reach you.
The wind howls in my ears
Which are used to the
'I love you's you had
And the way you used to
Call me yours.
Which never claimed it
Has come to claim me.
Unlike you, who never did.