Vibrant verses By Sanjeevani Biswas

Reflections

My heart is like the empty room I step into after I shower your memories resemble the three dew drops resting quietly on my right shoulder the ones my towel failed to dry you are made up of the thin rays of sunlight that creeps in through my opaque windows on a Wednesday afternoon while I read Angel's of Breakthrough or pretend to grasp Bukowski

as I lay in my false sense of freedom for a few more hours the happiest hours of a day my wet hair sprinkles dews on my spine spine running down like a memory lane I vaguely remember you running your fingers, marking your territory finding your home claiming yourself I remember your rhythmic breaths your erratic heartbeats I remember you staring at the bird's nest right outside my veranda

I remember the day I started praying in a language your eyes were unaware of

now as I leave the shower to pray I pray for another summer afternoon in August for a few more lines of poetry that would blow my mind to pisces I might pick them up the way I would pick up the petals of a very rare flower or I might let them get swept away by a sudden gust of wind for what you desire while you pray would free you more then the words you mouth for your religion would free you but if I am your religion and you are mine how would we ever free each other and we would fall apart once again

by now those few drops of dew on my shoulder would have dried and you would have left me and I would run my fingers down my spine in a vain search of my religion the rest of the afternoon.

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