I wonder
Why I still dream of you.
I thought
I didn’t love you enough
To tie myself to you.
But I still
Can’t laugh away
The childish love
I held within me
For you.
You always surprise me with
How much I still miss you…
How much I wish you missed me too…
The forest is dark as little light filters through the thick canopy of trees overhead. He has been walking for what seems like hours but could be only minutes.
Standing in a pool of dim light, she looks the same after so many years, beckoning him to come forward. Awestruck as if he found his heaven, he obliges.
Somewhere in a hospital, an old man dies…
Image by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash
She lighted the countless lamps
of the fairytale castle
every night,
hoping for love
of the handsome Prince.
The day she died,
the castle alone mourned–
its halls dark
through the night.
While the Prince cursed
and stumbled around
looking for a trickle of light.
Image by Cody Board on Unsplash
Love, when you ended
your ‘less-than-perfect’ life,
I believe you had every right.
But your note said
you pray for forgiveness
for your life of sins.
In that moment,
you changed everything.
You had no right to call
our love, our life and dreams,
a Sin…
We were gay, not philanderer–
almost man and husband.
Now that I stand here at your grave,
I wonder if I had sinned
throughout my life
by loving a Sinner.
Photo by BRUNO CERVERA on Unsplash
I was in a shock, I think.
Holding the phone to my ear
With one hand,
I ironed the same dress
For an hour,
Until I saw the holes
Burnt through the fabric,
Much like my heart.
No, I don’t love you anymore.
I had that sorted out long back.
Until Now.
I sat down
On the pile of ironed clothes
And stayed there for another hour
Still clutching the phone
Close to my heart.
Waiting for something… someone…
No, I don’t love you anymore.
I had that sorted out long back.
Until Now.
Someone called, not sure who,
Confirming what I already knew.
“Of course, I am fine.
I got over him.”
I called my new love
To share what I felt.
“Of course, I’m fine.
I got over him.”
Of course, I don’t love you anymore.
I had that sorted out long back.
Until Now.
Not sure if I ate that night,
Not sure how I got to bed.
Not sure if I cried.
But I remember
Turning over my wet pillow
In the middle of the night,
The day you died.
-Dedicated to the one ‘I didn’t love anymore’ until the day he died
I was washed ashore
When the rage subsided.
Your storm had stranded
Me on a lonely island.
The pain left me ripped up
My soul dried to bone.
I cried your name over
Hoping for your return.
There I waited to die
For an eternity,
Accepting defeat.
Until I heard the gulls cry
A song replete.
I looked at the colours
Play in the horizon.
As if in a ballet,
The world went on to spin.
Then I quit pining for you,
And rescued myself
To a better life
Without you…
Gliding above the clouds
In your arms,
I saw the break of dawn.
The pink and red
Guilding the horizon.
A herd of deer
In the forest below
Fled As we
Swooped low.
You held me close,
Your arms around
Our baby bump,
As one we touched
The ground.
I open my sleepy eyes
And find you gone,
Again,
My face wet with tears…
She was a torn garment, not worth mending.
After her husband crossed, his family cast her away to her old home.
Her parents cast her away to the backyard storeroom.
And now, the river had cast away her empty shell to the shore.
-Hindu widows, traditionally, give up all pleasures in life: good food, good clothes, music and human company. Often, they are dumped in widow homes and take up begging to survive. Not allowed to remarry, a lot of them choose to die instead.
With a rock on my heart, I see you
Place the luggage out of your door,
Thoughtfully, coz I can’t carry it alone.
I wish you had let it stay inside
And given me a reason to
See you one more time.
But you put it out and
Closed that door
Forever.
The loneliness had become too much. Every one told him that he should move to a new city and start over again. He could, then, meet new people, and may be, even find love again…
He looked at his children: five and eight. Would they mind moving? Of course, they would! Their lives were here with their grandparents, their school and friends. He couldn’t uproot them at a whim!
He couldn’t hurt them, so he let the memories hurt him.
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 