Fingers crossed
I don't remember us
Speaking of roses, or the weather even
But yes, I do remember speaking of passion, fingers crossed,
Of wanting you to share my space from now on,
And I remember very clearly, keeping my fingers crossed every time I uttered those lines,
Like an actor at his first audition, practising his lines backstage, visualizing future stardom
And every time I kept my fingers crossed, you had an answer (you had an answer for everything)
Put you finger to my lips, saying "shhhhh"
Leaving me dumbstruck, with only a finger to kiss
Come to think of it, that's how I remember you leaving
I still didn't know what to say to keep you from going
Lonely walk to the gallows
You are in an 8 ft by 10 ft
Staring through a slit
At life—of a past that haunts
In wait for a future
That's on extension
Every day of the week
The food you eat may
Just be your last
You don't know
You dread the lonely walk
At 4 am when the world is asleep
Just in time for the daily
To report another grim statistic
"the gallows are lovely, dark and deep"
you might have written
if this weren't happening to you,
the books you read come wrapped
in letters that urge you to
count your days
and the nightmares that co-habit
your 6 ft by 8 ft sturdy bed
speak of futility and past crimes
in one breath
but for you
the certainty is death.
Sharing a bus journey
We were coming back from Paradise
In a rickety bus. I remember feeling very protective about you, almost like a husband of his expectant wife. I remember being tossed around as the tyres gobbled up the miles, bringing us closer to destruction (which I didn't then know of course). In hindsight, it all seemed too perfect to be true.
The bus had to give. But not that way, way too abrupt, without warning, and certainly not so soon.
We didn't even have time to hate each other.
The wings of my wish
This cold brings some poetry
Into the mind, like
A letter slipped under the door
Touched only by the departing ray
It contains a wish
To slip into a letter
And journey across the ocean
To you,
So that, one day when you
Reach back,
Turning the key slowly
And pushing open the door
You would find me
Waiting to be read.
Lost, but breathing
Somewhere along the way
I realized I was lost
And didn't know which way to turn
To find my way back
After searching for a while
I gave up,
Not knowing you were hidden
In the darkest corner of my mind.
Smelling your hair smelling of sea
I remember, waking up to the sound of the clammy ocean,
Waking up to smell your hair,
(Smelt salty to me),
Smelt like you didn't care
If you carried a bit of the ocean, or not inside your head.
I remember,
Telling you you looked lovely
(although your hair still smelt crabby)
I remember waking up beside you
Cold, shivering from the cold of the invading sea that had stealthily breached the warmth of the room during the night
I remember you had slyly taken away the quilt, leaving me to face the sea
I remember the angry roar I conjured up out of my fear, as the waves carefully lapped up the blackness with their intensity,
You were beside me then, blissfully unaware of the deep, dark ocean beating against my heart--wakeful me, dreaming images of dread, of not letting the sea break us up like it does a lonely catamaran out to fish
That night, you slept, while I waited
Counting your heartbeats for the faintest
signs of love.
Sometimes,
It's hard to tell
If the body drives the want
Or if it is the love that wants
You. You have invaded my body, my time and space
But kept a part of you so well hidden
That I can't disown your presence, outright.
You have mocked at my fears
Played on my want for you
And stripped me of essential dignity,
All, in the space of just a few months.
You have kept yourself
While I have lost you to the perils of want.
Why couldn't I keep you forever, raindrop?
Winters bring that dread
Of long waits
Crushed tea cups breathing life
In sips of neglect,
Hurting the shadow
Thrown up by the lamp post
With a kick of dust,
Staring at a mongrel—
As hungry as you are—for
Kinship and talk,
Since you refuse to pick up
The phone, and keep
A part of my conversation
On your bookshelf,
Before taking it to bed
And sleep.
Winters bring the chill
To carefully-woven relationships,
Piercing the heat of spring,
Unraveling all the pristine
Conversations in one cold sweep,
Setting on fire all those sun-filtered
Memories of a lazy summer
You recede in winter's soft light
Leaving just enough glow
To read a sticky-note quick.
Rejected
When you pushed me away, it was still dark
You hadn't turned on the light
All I wanted was the reassuring comfort
Of your touch
I didn't want your body
I wanted just you.
The day I dreamed of you
I had programmed my existence
According to the four seasons.
Books for the rains,
Walks in the park for fall
Dreaming in the cosy confines of home
For the winter,
And cycling, early in the morning, during spring.
But one day,
When the flowers had gone off to sleep
And the sky was waiting to exhale
I dreamt of you.
Enslaving me with a touch
And a kind word.
After that, the seasons were a blur
And my thoughts muddled.
You stopped my keystrokes,
Inverting the commas and letting the semi-colons
Run without meaning.
And I, stripped of feeling,
Waited for you
Counting the days
To bridge the distance
To your heart.
The wrist watch that separates us now, in time and space
I remember the day I felt vulnerable enough
To tell you I am lost without you, it was the day you wore a part of me on your wrist, but not your heart. It was the day of the beautiful, indiglo pink wrist watch, the day you explained to me why it can only be 99 per cent, what you share. It was also the day I stopped pretending that I wasn't vulnerable, a day when my pride deserted me and the day when longings were expressed over a McBurger—Can you beat that?
I remember this day as I remember many others.
But I wish I didn't have to.
