Letters of Love VI

4:17 pm, July 27

Dear Love,

Summer has faded fast this year. Flan-like clouds hang disturbingly low. I miss the amaltas with their french grape like blooms- mellow yellow hanging from weak boughs. Along telegraph lines, weeds form 2D hills, flat triangles half-folded. I miss the colors of sunsets. Sometimes there are rainbows. Sometimes smooth slate-grey darkness. Twice a day, up-down, I travel 40 kms in trains full with callous chatter. And friendless eyes. The petrichor is gone. My earth smells of exhausted orgasms.

Slowly the clouds scatter. And mass anew. I try finding their destinations, try mapping their blood flow. I think of nights I can’t sleep; nights, when the moon is all holed up in the womb of the sky and 60s music shiver in empty coffee mugs. Mirrors stare with passive reluctance. Rivers well up with tears. Railway tracks run with stifled abandon. And the land stretches. Far and farther, threading through reeds and little songs. I have forgotten the color of hyacinths. Or the burning lick of the sun.

You never said you love me. I never assumed you did. The earth tilts and falls away. And dragonflies fish light with their wings. Everything is atoms and sinusoids and echoes- all the strange things they talk of in class. I am left thinking of all the seconds our eyes met. It rains. And I am left alone.

You are the secret I kept hiding beneath my pillow since I was 14. All the wishes, all the shooting stars that I gathered up, all the heartbeats, all the sighs, whispers everything. Even after you left. Even now when hopes have metamorphosed to pinned butterflies.

X

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13 thoughts on “Letters of Love VI

  1. such luxurious, image laden writing…..i’ve been writing nothing butpoetry for three months, formerly a storyteller and prose has been difficult for me to read lately. but this writing of yours, i could get lost in for hours. your last paragraph and this sentence:

    I am left thinking of all the seconds our eyes met.

    yes, i’ve been there too.

  2. when hopes have metamorphosed to pinned butterflies….ouch..that stings… wonderful images here and the love and longing but also loneliness without the loved one can be clearly felt

  3. The most gorgeous piece of literature I have stumbled upon today. I was listening to these melancholy ghazals by an Indian singer Pankaj Udhas when I started to read this and while I read it, it was like meeting an old lover again, the pain of the words stood before me like an aberration. Brilliant.!!

  4. …and you write in the language of love without any anticipation it will yield back to you… unconditionally felt deep down my bones… really special… and i enjoyed it… excellent Mohana… smiles…

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