kalopsia | ✓

nostalgia

trece

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i gaze at the honeysuckle plant
over the wired fence that now
separates your house from mine.
maybe you're asleep now,
i wonder ─ my hand resting against the rusty frame of a broken window.

last night, it rained.
both on the thirsty earth
and my pillow.
the thunderstorm cracked open
the glass panes, so now the summer air is gushing in plenty.

i see the light flicker-
i know its you, contemplating whether you should meet my charcoal eyes or close your own
pair of periwinkle blues,
dozing off for a while.

its the same window,
that you used to climb up
back when we were seventeen.
its the same kind of summer, the one
where the breeze is soft and dewy.
the one that makes you want to keep your windows open - in case certain messy haired boys happen to flash a lopsided smile at you.

and the trail of memories makes
me giggle, and i wish you could
take me back to the night when
we fell into skinny love.

i trace the outline of the broken
shard of glass that juts out from
the window-frame so brutally.
my mother says we shall fix it soon.

you choose to fall asleep again, ruthlessly extinguishing the
flame in my heart.
i wish my heart was a window,
so when it cracked open,
i could replace the panes.

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a/n : originally wrote this for the literary society at my college, which i'm a part of.