Of sweaty skins and streetlights

If I could ever create paitings in oil

My masterpiece would depict her,

On a humid late summer evening

with the moon showing it’s face 

through the clouds, now and then,

and below in the drowsy streets here

she would be holding my hand

with her sweaty hands,

with a grip as tight as love,

and she would be walking silently

getting as close as she can be 

to my skinny body

taking in my smell

and letting me take in hers,

And the golden light 

from a random street lamp

would bounce off her dreamy face,

illuminating the profile

in a magical, feeble yellow shine,

and playing with the familiar texture

of the majestic skin

and tiny droplets of summer sweat

rushing down it,

And a few scattered strands of her hair, 

that leaves me lost for words,

would play hide-and-seek with 

the dreamy face, 

prompting me to stare ceaselessly

with chaotic cravings flooding my mind

in which I yearn to drawn,

and then she would take her glasses off

with one swift, graceful movement 

of her other hand,

with a slight shake of her head

that would rearrange

the locks of hair 

playing with her face,

and then I’d stare 

into those narcotic eyes 

with the reflection of the drowsy streetlight

conjuring up a million suns

and a million tides

in the ocean of my heart

in which I want to drown with her.

Hiraeth

So, where do I begin?
With the yearning for the words that were never written?
With the longing for the songs that were never sung?
Or with the lust for the light that never showed itself?
You see,
In each note of a songbird’s melody that I hear, while I crave some minutes of sleep, every midnight;
In each drop of the rain that greets my windowpane, while I fight with my inner self, every midnight;
In each teardrop that my eyes shed, while I drift through time, every midnight;
I miss a home with comforting hearts, which never was there.
I miss a past with lively, lucid dreams, which never was there.
I miss a “you” with a perpetual flow of love, which never was there.
And I fail myself.

Snehashis Parashar
Department of Physics
Tezpur University