Love Letters

a postcard was dropped by today
and with that the trail of
my beloved’s sweet-scented aches.
the mailman has me recognised by now
for a woman who writes to his darling
and longs for his return every hour of the day.
the constant yearning for three years
has made me ancient for my heart
can only hold so much torment.
but with gushing emotions nevertheless
i ran up the spiralled staircase and
silently sat next to my candle-lit desk.
this mellowed evening had suddenly
withered all birds into their homes,
lanes growing less chaotic and
the sky above watching in wonder.
he writes to me —
“a beautiful man in my neighbourhood
plays the classical melodies on flute,
specially the yaad piya ki aaye thumri
every evening lullabying the sunset to sleep,
the birds to dream and me to fall in the abyss
of reminiscing your sweet voice.
to hear the waves crashing by the shore
and watch the sun slyly go,
i might have turned grey aching for
the sound of your anklets and
a glimpse of my darling as she’d move to & fro.
we’ve been in a debatable conversation,
the night sky and i.
for what could be more enchanting or
unfathomably darker than your eyes?
wouldn’t you want to come here, my love
and settle the bet like there’s no lies?
but when i rest into the seemingly long night,
my head floats around the memories
of watching you watch me through the mirror
with coy smiles and suggestive gestures,
eventually longing for every inch of you
turning my nights into longest restless hours
my dear, the ever changing weather here
takes me on a nostalgic ride every now & then
for when it pours, my heart cries a song of its own
and when it’s fall, wearing my heart on sleeve i shed a few walls”
— the candle light started to wither after all
and the cuckoo came out of her home
as what it seemed like was the time of dawn
here i was, six years later too
re-reading your letters anew.


7 thoughts on “Love Letters

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