by Shreya Ramachandran
Shreya Ramachandran writes a poem on a couple whose relationship is slowly falling apart.
Sorrow hangs heavy on the door tonight.
We take our shirts off and they hiss
and deflate, grey bags of the day, now empty.
You wash your feet.
I press my back hard into the wall as far as it will go.
The fan turns and creaks on the ceiling.
I am cooled by the air. I wait for you
to lie down on the bed, depress the bedspread
with your weight
And you do, but more quietly today.
Something is leaving us
the way air leaves from tyres.
And soon I will say, “I feel…” and finish
the sentence
Instead of “You must be tired. Sleep well.”
Like a balm,
covering instead of healing.
The clock strikes ten, again.
Shreya Ramachandran is a writer and student from Madras, attempting to write honestly about herself and her world.
