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.