A season of cold

Your memories hang over
Like some sticky patch of clouds,
Dripping all over my face
In slow, sore motions.

Just like violet sky,
Violent wind,
Or hefty downpour feels on a shaky window,
Thundering clouds rumble in my head,
Thunderous heart
Thousand things I gotta undo.

But I can’t do.

As I recall us cuddling,
Puttering around in lazy, greasy summers,
Inhaling musk of each other’s skin,
Thinking how
Will cuddling be like in winters.

It’s winter now.

– Mala Lesbia

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Oloriel says:

    Sad poem, Neeraj, but we often forget how beautiful it is to have something beautiful to remember.

    1. NEKNEERAJ says:

      I completely agree.

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