The Broken Ship

It’s that hour again, remember? It used to be cold then, it still is. We waited for dawn, for it to get warmer, for it to get bearable. I am still waiting, to hear you scream, laugh, wail, and sometimes crib while I comforted you, held you close and smiled, wondering why I would need the dawn.

There are boxes in a dirty corner, dusty from time. I thought I packed everything when I moved, on, but what am I searching while my fingertips get sooty, in time? I can’t part with the dust, the last of you that time has left.

It’s that time again, I remember, the jittery hands, how I fell short of words, and how you just caressed my arm and pretended to understand. May be you did, may be you kept quiet, like always, till the last moment, when you burst into tears and cut yourself. I couldn’t stop my happiness, or the gush of blood. Moments run parallel in my mind, I see us making love, while our hides tear apart, like skin from kosher meat.

Can I walk from here and reach you? Is it that far? Do you not hear my eyes serenade? Do you not feel me staring at your lips, with hopelessness, with adoration and desire? May be it’s too dark and too cold, perhaps because it is that time. Could I have some of your tears to warm myself? I remember how you bled from your eyes to make me warm. It was that time when it got very cold.

Starlight flickers like a dying lamp, while I walk down to you. It is late, isn’t it? You tell me to turn around and rest my eyes. They have walked scores of days in redemption. But my feet haven’t moved. Desires ebb and tide but my Resolve teases me, with chained legs. While my eyes walk, my feet lag behind like blind beggars on crossroads.

It is that time again, when I will not come, when I will chase other shadows and you shall fade away like light from a dusky sky. It’s that day again my love…