Memento

I have forgotten her impish laugh,

the lines on her lips, the way they emaciated

when autumn fell, her red flamboyant scarf.

The effect of her presence, one moment enervated, another invigorated.

I have forgotten her favorite line and writer,

“For you a thousand times over”, and Stephenie Meyer.

The tear shaped scar on the inside of her left wrist,

her fixation with the color pink.

I have forgotten her promises,

what we were and what we could have been.

Even if we were vigorous accomplices,

even if we were lovers too keen.

I have forgotten her smell.

The repugnant yet endearing odor

doesn't quite sit well

with me anymore, her clothes thus I tore.

I thought I had forgotten her completely,

Until I saw placed on my coffee table carelessly,

a princess cut diamond promise ring,

yelling at me the new beginning it posed to bring.

I have forgotten her, except I haven’t,

I fear the ring’s my passageway to a dingy cavern.

This would have been my last verse for her,

except, now I have discovered new words for her.

--

Nipun

Love

Tonight I'll relive my sorrows,

In the hope of being happy tomorrow.

On such nights, I wonder if my name

shall ever again make her exclaim.

I love her cause I loved her.

I miss her cause I missed her.

I wonder if she'd care for tautology,

as much as she does for classroom pedagogy.

"She's there" I point to a place yonder,

"She's here", for distance makes the heart grow fonder.

On such nights, I wonder if her countenance bewilders me more

or less than my labored romantic verses, she abhors.

For all I have is my words, she will be another's

and another's, as I may be one with others.

On such nights, I dread she thinks of me as a terrible kisser,

For I was first in the luscious fissure.

Maybe I should talk to her now,

and break the self imposed vow.

On such nights, I dread my empty bedside means more to me

than it could ever to her.

--
Nipun