of rain-drops on her bare skin.
My lips drinking them dry. I remember
how she sighed then. The only other
time she sighed like that was when
I whispered some Faiz to her.
She loved the rains. The paper boats
gingerly floating in water. She used
to pluck an eyelash, the longest
she could find. Place it on a boat
and watch it float away. She used
to hold my hand tight then.
She loved to dream. I remember
she once cried when the boat
drowned. That was towards the end
when her eyes so often brimmed
over with tears. I remember.
She loved the rains. She loved singing
over the thundering clouds. Always
a note offkey in that high-pitched
voice of hers. I loved listening
to her songs. They spoke of desires,
dreams and longing. Of destiny and
heartbreak towards the end. I remember
I cried once. She made me promise
I won't cry ever again. She used to say
my smile reminded her of the morning sun.
She hated the shadows thrown by dusk.
Does someone recite Faiz to her still?
Does it rain where she lives?
Do her children make paper boats?
Do her eyelashes still grow long?
Do her songs still sing of splintered dreams?
I will never know. There are so many things
that elude me now. I wonder why the lump
in my throat never dissolves into tears.
Why I hate the slush of rainy days. Why
I never wish to wake up in the morning.
Why nothing makes sense anymore.
Not even writing poetry.
