In The Middle Of The Night

There’ll be moments
Fighting mortality,
Waiting for you, telling no one.
To no one
Shall cater the cries,
And the past
Shrieking into the silence
Of broken dreams,
Of broken strings,

Deep into time.
Deep into sands that swallow half-shells,
And half-memories,
Half-forgotten and half-alive,
Half-lost in hindsight.

Only to form again
In disjointed halves,
Raising its neck over the coming tide,
Before breaking again
Into a thousand parts,
Into an emptiness that’s cold,
That’s cruel,
That’ll hold;
Weeping and wailing,
Dreaming and disappearing.

There’ll be you,
Dreams of you,
Desires and despairs of you,
All that’s launched directionless,
All my heart could manage,
On faraway nights,
On nights long, long back,
That shall one day find their way to you.
All of me will find all of you.

And one day,
You’ll wake in the middle of the night.

______________________
Subham Basak
(January 2, 2017)

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Starry Night Sky and Girl Watercolor – Art Painting Print 8×10 by Heatherlee Chan | Lady

That Which Was Spilled

Sometimes, I just forget to love people. They ride upon a moment and appear, and like the moments, I let them go. It’s like the task feels so difficult at times. They rush in too fast, wait for no permission, smile past, breeze past, like that dialogue from a movie in a theatre you couldn’t pause at and savour.

In hindsight, you fall in love with their memories. You smile back. A little late. A point in time a little distant. In a space where desolation has slowly but inevitably grown around you. Into you. Staring steadfast. And you let the tiny countless lights of regret blink on, like the ritual of festivity in a city of love. It is all so inevitable. Like every trinket of failure in life, we fail in life to emanate just enough love.

We fail to love more times than we manage to fall in love. Then we forget when.

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