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An evocative and intense love poem, by Saranya, exclusively for Different Truths.
How are they, the remnants of our day of parting?
The creaky pillion space of your borrowed bike,
The stain of my kohl smeared eyes on your shirt at the shoulder,
The strained note of the last melody you sang for me,
That folded piece of empty nothings we left behind at that street corner,
The creases on your sleeve caused by my silent plea as you stood stoic,
The dampness in the January wind which annoyed you so much,
How are they, the remnants of our day of parting?
The hurried goodbye, or the lack of it, we uttered or didn’t that evening,
The faint mark that my nails left behind when I held your hand so tight,
The vain scribblings in frost I made on the windowsill,
And the home of the windowsill that now belongs to some stranger,
That busy tone on the other end of calls I made and its permanence,
The bewilderment of the shade in the moment we knew was the last of such,
How are they, the remnants of our day of parting?
Those verses we just began, those melodies we had only half-sung,
Those moonbeams we wasted un-kissed, those apologies we had meant to exchange,
Those roads we mindlessly chose to trod, those shores we almost walked,
Those conventions we remembered, those promises we forgot,
And that lost lore of love we had only begun to understand…
How are they, the remnants of our day of parting?
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