Tepid Heart Lonely

It is 4:00 a.m. and I can listen to the morning slowly waking up to the cold blue stillness, lying spread apart, unevenly upon the flesh of this city. Outside my window, I can see the highway, glistening in streaks of reds, oranges and lost yellows; the highway that stayed up with me, all night.

In the distance, across the lights, I can hear the muffled cries of a man, calling out to you, calling out your name, howling with the wind, followed by the hum like lingering of trailer sirens.

My forehead pressed into the glass, my eyes stare at the dark sky beyond, sleeping upon a bed of quiet purple-orange halo; moving slowly to the tepid, dewy translucence of my window, and I see your face, in my reflection.

The colour of your skin paints itself upon me like twilight, the mist left about by my breath, exhales your lips in place, and I can’t remember how many dawns I have counted, in search of you.

I don’t know if I ever stopped looking for you. I have managed to save some of you though, over the years, inside me. I can always find you there. And now, I have found you again.

I am still and numb, feeling quiet and heavy, standing here, staring at your face, in mine, and I don’t know what to say. I never seem to run out of the memories. They keep making their way into my iris, and I begin to look for you everywhere inside this room. I have never run out of reasons to remember you. As long as I know I have more, there is always another night to give. I never run out of cigarettes either. I never run out of you.

On some nights, I write poems about your tresses, in hope that my words will somehow find their way. But I am sitting here alone, in between the walls of these pages, afraid to let you go, afraid to touch you again.

It begins to rain. I can see you standing outside my window. It is time for me to exit the light and fall into bed. Amidst my sheets, I snuggle up to you and close my eyes against yours; breathe in your warmth, and feel you.

Tonight, I will force a dream into, and fall across to the other side in the comatose of your scent, where I lie in your arms and sleep. Here I will stay till daybreak and then emerge from my cocoon of blankets, and this rubble of pillows. I will write about you.

On some days I find you in the Sun, on some, in the moon. My eyes fall down with the horizon, by dark, everyday. Twisted, misplaced and contorted I die here, entangled in this last strand of you, every night.

Believe me, I cannot escape you. I have tried.

 

Siddharth Pathak | 3rd July 2013


8 comments

  1. The usage of words, their contexts, the seamless amalgamation of different textures and ideas leave your prose with that dreamlike quality that only very few are able to bring forth…and my you have this uncanny ability to make a mundane contemplation so elegaic❤ Loved it!

  2. It’s both liberating and imprisoning when memories are so real.
    When you can feel the touch,
    Listen to the voice,
    And relive every moment.
    Whether you want to or not.
    Whether you like it or not.

    And there’s really no escape. It’s not like you even have to force yourself into the dark hole.
    You just free fall, like it was meant to be.
    Like it was all written somewhere, a long time ago. And it just simply had to happen.

    In conclusion…
    You shouldn’t move us readers to tears.
    You just shouldn’t.

  3. The best thing which made me feel wow,

    “In the distance, across the lights, I can hear the muffled cries of a man, calling out to you, calling out your name, howling with the wind, followed by the hum like lingering of trailer sirens.”

    I agree with mitchelle, don’t let the readers cry, every time.

    Keep writing!

  4. Every word -EVERY WORD- has captivated me. I can sense it with all my senses and, then, some more. I can breathe this. I do not know what to say to you, I know you know exactly what I mean.
    Siddharth Pathak, you, with this post, have captured me in entirety.

  5. How can you describe something so simple, so beautifully!? I was enraptured, throughout the read, by your words for I sensed something just beyond them! Anywho, loved what you wrote! It’s always inspiring, what with prodding solemn emotions and nudging at them, to cause to weave something that may someday be equally beautiful!


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