The age of sweet thirteen,
Had short hair, wore her
Skirt below the knee.
The second one after
Two years, when she looked
At me thrice and the guys
Teased me with her name.
Of sixteen, when the absolute
Bomb of my class wished me for
The exams with a shake hand.
Then her letters found a way
To my home that summer holiday.
SMS in the first-ever mobile I got.
She changed the school after that
And that's that.
The intense one was after
The school. I fell for my
Best friend. A situation ship,
Friendzone and a long streak
Of emotional fog and my
Break down in Goa before
I moved on.
The best one came after a
Really long gap.
The sweetest ever really.
She was always there.
Called me cute even through
My shabbiness. She tickled my
Imagination to weave me
Stories of fantasy.
We traveled, hiked and
Saw dreams as meteors showed
In the Himalayan skies.
But some shooting stars were
Angry it seems. This time,
I fucked up and I was back to
The blankness I deserved.
The one that got to my head
Came briefly after that.
It was brief really, there wasn't
Even a proper story.
We talked in poems and
Cuss words of fancy and
She often refused to tell me
About her ailment, yet left
Me enough hints.
She ghosted me after a year
And before I felt like an ass,
Her sister sent me a text,
Saying, her sister passed away
That morning.
I didn't know what to do,
Except to leave the matter
There and punish myself
With the guilt that followed.
I flutter my wings even today
But always in apprehension
Of the anti-climactic flight
I might make.
So I sit here in my nest, brooding,
Thinking about those houses
That turn into cemeteries
When we don't leave.
No comments:
Post a Comment