Truly Yours
The days after you were gone
I woke up with a void in my chest,
I walked with an emptiness in my soul,
And the butterflies in my stomach had died a painful death,
A shattered puzzle with missing pieces,I guess.
The brighter the sun started to shine,the heavier the void
became.
As if a ball of unknown mass had been kept hidden in the
void and it kept pulling me down,
I didn’t fight rather I let the invisible tentacles of the
unknown mass grow on my skin and blood,
while all I can feel was the void enlarging itself and
finally enveloping me in its dark embrace.
The months after you were gone
I visited your gravestone ….
I walked through the streets alone, attempting to trace back
our long faded steps on the dust of time
The journey was no less tougher than climbing one of those
gigantic mountains, I bet.
I noticed the tiny creepers and ants who had found home at
your place,
And I am so jealous of it…
When the soft beams of the sun touched your gravestone
gently,
all I wanted was to vanish into air and become one with those
golden sunrays
When the marigold seeds I sowed last month started
embracing your grave with tiny green lines
all I wanted was to become one of those light yellow
marigold seeds and kiss you forever.
When the first drizzle of monsoon showered over the place
you’re buried
all I wanted was to be the first drop of rain that your
grave stone absorbed in seconds.
The day after you passed away
I almost forgot how to breath,
as if you are the air I have been living on for years.
I dusted our bookshelves,brought all the books out
I looked over the pages annotated by you in colours of green
and pink,
And all I wanted was to see my name written by you again.
I tried arranging your cherished books just the way you
liked
Murakami’s one side and Christie’s on the other.
With you gone,your books are getting lighter I reckon,
as if you had left a tiny part of yours with every book you
had once read
and now they are leaving too.
The months after you were gone
I dived through the recipes you’ve left for me
Written in your wavy handwriting.
The fish curry never tastes like the one you used to make
And everytime I end up putting more salt in Dal.
Now the pages are turning yellow,i’m afraid one day I’ll
loose it too.
I opened your closet to found your shirts staring at me
I pressed your shirts and folded them neatly just the way you liked.
It still smells of you,the smell of cocoa and citrus
I am afraid that one morning I’ll wake up and the fragrance will be gone.
And all wanted now is to pause the time and re-live it again and again.
The months after you were gone,
The thought of forgetting your voice haunted me the most
The fear of you not calling my name again sent shivers in my
nerves.
They say one day I’ll start forgetting your face too,
I’ll forget your name,age and the citrusy smell of your perfume..
You’ll be nothing but a distant memory for me
And I’m afraid of it more than I’m afraid of death.
So the months after you were gone
I tried to find you again…
In all those places we’ve once visited together
Shores,galleries,gardens and libraries
I visited to reminisce our days together
I sat by the shore wearing your favourite shirt
I walked on the shore bare footed and wrote our name in sand
I read aloud the Amrita Pritam’s “Mein tenu phir Milangi”
Because I know we’ll meet again
Maybe in the after life
Maybe tonight in my dream
Maybe in all those lives we haven’t lived yet.


This is what feels so connected to everyone who is reading it...The words, the apt choice of emotions, all make it a masterpiece... Great work...
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