It rained today.
And I slept with that same smile plastered on my face, the one you said you loved.
The one I coyly smiled when you offered a hug when I said I was so cold.
Who knew being all drenched and shivering would spark open a fire between us, the one that would warm my tomorrows, perhaps long after you are gone.
I've moved away. It's been years. Continents apart we are. You, hating my guts more than ever. Me, ablaze.
Still.
Still.
I wear my hair longer. Gray hasn't reached my roots.
Last week I met someone new. He said I had beautiful eyes. I looked away. Memories.
I've grown up. Or so I thought.
Until I found myself at a crossroad, turning around and following a stranger.
A whiff of perfume. A too familiar tornado of yesterdays. Was it you?
Maybe.
Maybe.
Waking up is tough these days. Maybe because I haven't ever been at rest.
I left my carefree self in your arms. I miss her but it's comforting to be hugging you still, in some way.
Just the way I interpret some of my actions so as to survive each day. Without you.
And you wondered why was there a distance between you and your girl? Why could you never be hers completely?
On my end of the line, I smiled because I knew. My silence, my alibi.
Hopefully.
Hopefully.
He cupped my face in his hands, curled a stray strand in his finger and kissed my eyes.
I kept my eyes closed. Letting him do things I wanted you to.
Sometimes I think I am sleep walking through these years. Vivid though.
Someday I would wake up and your shirt would still be ruffled on my dresser.
And to my right would be your messy-head, snoring away into the night.
Peacefully.
Peacefully.
No matter how much it kills me to see you, I never will close this distance between us.
I court the devil each night. I'm digging my way up from hell.
If sin is what might drain the goodness of you that runs in my blood,
I don't even bat an eyelash when he marks me as his.
Or so he thinks.
Wishfully.
Wishfully.
It rained today. And my pillow was drenched too.
Of moments we lived, dreamed of. The two splitting images of us running with their baby feet in the backyard.
Of so many tomorrows that will never be.
You're the white noise that no one knows about.
The one that I want, I need each night, year after year, to sleep.
Reassuringly.
Reassuringly.
© 2017 Neha Choudhry
And I slept with that same smile plastered on my face, the one you said you loved.
The one I coyly smiled when you offered a hug when I said I was so cold.
Who knew being all drenched and shivering would spark open a fire between us, the one that would warm my tomorrows, perhaps long after you are gone.
I've moved away. It's been years. Continents apart we are. You, hating my guts more than ever. Me, ablaze.
Still.
Still.
I wear my hair longer. Gray hasn't reached my roots.
Last week I met someone new. He said I had beautiful eyes. I looked away. Memories.
I've grown up. Or so I thought.
Until I found myself at a crossroad, turning around and following a stranger.
A whiff of perfume. A too familiar tornado of yesterdays. Was it you?
Maybe.
Maybe.
Waking up is tough these days. Maybe because I haven't ever been at rest.
I left my carefree self in your arms. I miss her but it's comforting to be hugging you still, in some way.
Just the way I interpret some of my actions so as to survive each day. Without you.
And you wondered why was there a distance between you and your girl? Why could you never be hers completely?
On my end of the line, I smiled because I knew. My silence, my alibi.
Hopefully.
Hopefully.
He cupped my face in his hands, curled a stray strand in his finger and kissed my eyes.
I kept my eyes closed. Letting him do things I wanted you to.
Sometimes I think I am sleep walking through these years. Vivid though.
Someday I would wake up and your shirt would still be ruffled on my dresser.
And to my right would be your messy-head, snoring away into the night.
Peacefully.
Peacefully.
No matter how much it kills me to see you, I never will close this distance between us.
I court the devil each night. I'm digging my way up from hell.
If sin is what might drain the goodness of you that runs in my blood,
I don't even bat an eyelash when he marks me as his.
Or so he thinks.
Wishfully.
Wishfully.
It rained today. And my pillow was drenched too.
Of moments we lived, dreamed of. The two splitting images of us running with their baby feet in the backyard.
Of so many tomorrows that will never be.
You're the white noise that no one knows about.
The one that I want, I need each night, year after year, to sleep.
Reassuringly.
Reassuringly.
© 2017 Neha Choudhry
 |
| Image Source: http://www.sara-herranz.com/ |
