yesterday I saw you.
today only your scent remains.
tomorrow, that too will vanish.
you said
the ache for home rumbles in your chest.
I tried to sooth it with words
in the absence of medicine
or a plane ticket.
when you left I moved,
became an immigrant
and I understood what it meant
to live without living.
I forgo the mall mehndi,
the astrologer on his maroon cushion,
order from the pani puri wala
a samosa and small talk -
for a moment
we breach liminality
but then I owe him thirty rupees
and I go alone,
sitting safe from summer heat
snack untouched.
I wait for the monsoon and hope
you will return for the mangoes,
perhaps then I can tell you
everything I meant to say
yesterday.
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 6:50 AM UTC
yesterday I saw you.
today only your scent remains.
tomorrow, that too will vanish.
you said
the ache for home rumbles in your chest.
I tried to sooth it with words
in the absence of medicine
or a plane ticket.
when you left I moved,
became an immigrant
and I understood what it meant
to live without living.
I forgo the mall mehndi,
the astrologer on his maroon cushion,
order from the pani puri wala
a samosa and small talk -
for a moment
we breach liminality
but then I owe him thirty rupees
and I go alone,
sitting safe from summer heat
snack untouched.
I wait for the monsoon and hope
you will return for the mangoes,
perhaps then I can tell you
everything I meant to say
yesterday.
