Until I grew up, my bruises made me cry my heart out. Calling out for you, showing my wounds Somewhere I felt relieved. You would caress my forehead, until my bawl deadened to a whimper. My bruises made me cry my heart out Until I grew up… Now everything’s silent, turned to ash, pale & dark. Standing alone, that little finger still waiting for your hand, I can listen my head throbbing. When did I grow this old? No more, do my bruises make me cry my heart out, succumbing to them, I’m numb like a free-fall… Fading cries, happiness in tatters, I refuse to give way, Still waiting to show you my bruises Lying beside you We both haven’t been this way before We both haven’t been this silent…
I write about you because I want to keep it all intact. I want that night to remain in my memories as fresh as dew. You were gone but your heart remained with me, beating rhythmically, syncing with my throbbing head. I hope you are in a much happier place now. I still see your suitcase, the entire souvenir kept intact, searching for you to embrace it. Your sandals are waiting, longing for someone to amble in them to the dairy and the park. Your kurtas still have your fragrance. I touch them to relive you. Everything’s the same nana.
How I wish I could hold your hand longer, I wish your hands had not turned cold, you had not closed your eyes.
You longed for departure and how I wished God had not granted you this wish.
You longed for departure and how I wished God had not granted you this wish.
