by Vinita Agrawal
A montage of photos lines the walls of my heart
Spelling the point of no return in traces of skin
There is no place to be, except in love
The places in your eyes read like Tolkien’s fantasies
Knuckles of life graze my deadened state as spaces widen
Inevitably, the oases shrink in the desert sands
As does time in between our fingers
Where do the days go from here
What do we do about our hearts?
Why is there never any answer to that?
Why does the waiting never stop?
It rides the silver metal wings of every airplane taking off
It cries the way the pale blue sky does when pierced by noise
It forms icicles of nothingness over thoughts
It yelps between us like a wounded animal
Our freedom lies in being attached to love.
Vinita is a Delhi based writer and poet and has been published in international print and online journals.
