Friday 8 June 2018

Things left unsaid


Did I tell you that I still miss you sometimes?

Especially when someone plays a sufi note


It reminds me of you and pains just a little

Whenever I see a handwritten note


I still remember

The shade of blue you wore


The one time I closed your shirt buttons

The one time you touched my bangles

And how samosa made you a glutton


The one time you left marks on my neck

How you never let me give you a peck


You know what else you stole

Apart from my half a smile and my kohl?


The twinkle in my eye and the ring in my laughter

Just thought I'd let you know after


You've spoken about your favourite books

My playlist has been explored

The latest movies, coffee, poetry,

Is there nothing to tick anymore?

But can you hear the still noise my heart makes,

When you try and make eye contact?

Our hands touch for a millisecond

That moment is as sweet as the coconut water

We had on the beach

Natural

I just keep wondering

What more?

Would you like to explore the recesses of anything except my mind?

Where do we go from here now?

Your place or mine?

Date night


There's jazz

And a picture perfect pizza lays on the table

We both await you,

Me and my mozzarella,

I await, then tire,

then despair,

My desire for you,

like the pizza, has gone cold

And then you come.

Something inexplicable happens.

The butterflies in my stomach jump.

Should I let these innocent creatures believe

in re-birth?

(even though I might not)

At your sight?



Help, I say on Sunday

Bored with myself

Phew I say on Monday

Work has come to rescue

By Tuesday, though,

thoughts of you begin to seep in,

(thoughts of your being begin to seep in)

Wednesday I keep my hashtag game strong

Thursday, yes I survive

A story here, a post there

You're emptied from my mind

But Friday comes,

And the filter goes,

I have the absence of of you to keep me company

I get high on the thought that

You might

return.

By Saturday, my week's resolve has weekend.


My dad

Is the comfort of a crumpled shirt at the day's end

Contentment and contemplation

Happiness,

Dad jokes,

Grey hair, well oiled

and neatly combed.

Curious eyes

The most genuine smile

His nose, which was in books,

Is now in business,

His is the eagerness to

learn whatever's trending

Love, looks like this

A hard working life, well lived

Age, looking fine

Believe me, when you see him

With his specs perched atop his head

And a single sweat bead on his neck,

You'll know what I'm talking about.