Memories of myrrh


Hot summer nights with little to keep me awake and much to keep me from sleeping. a pause before the caller says hello and infinite heartbeats in the split second as the intake of breath becomes almost palpably you. interrupted magic, broken spells. dreams where deo-sprays smell like myrrh and and jasmine and sandalwood. where wooden benches feel like plush couches and faded college uniforms seem to be robes of shimmering silks.

Romanticizing memories? When the uncertain future becomes the past, the past in turn becomes uncertian.

Did you really happen to me?

You haunt my dreams, asleep and awake. I am in limbo, on the borders of Hell. My world at a standstill. I watch but I do not see. I feel but I do not sense. I listen but I do not hear. The silence is deafening. When will I exorcise you? I gave in to fate a long time ago so why don’t you leave me in peace?



The walkways of the past retain your scent, like raat ki rani on a cool night breeze.

Why then does life make me choke?


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