The north wind only a breeze
The tropical sun holding it away
And with the leaves quivering against the sky
Another lifetime’s remembered
This evening sky is red
And over my head its deep blue
What happened to the indigo between
It has happened to me too.
I woke up today with you on my mind, nothing unusual. Nothing more painful.
A glass of tepid water, handing father the newspaper, asking mum if she wanted a sandwich, my usual routine. My time in my balcony, the tropical sun beating down hot and heavy, no gentle breeze rustling the leaves, the heat of roads glittering, glaring at me.
My morning routine, scrolling through news feed. The black portal to my loneliness clutched safe in my palm, my other hand shielding it from the heat of the sun. Nothing keeps, fleeting, false colours of joy keep me going—every day, the same way, the strangest attachment to my world of lies.
When evening comes with small relief and I’m distracted by the sound of the wind between the trees—
It’s sudden, the rain comes lashing, unforgiving, purging the concrete of unbearable heat. Thunder strikes loud and lightning licks the ground and I’m afraid earth’s come for me.
It’s with fear in my heart that I drag myself out and feel the rain pushing me underground. My soul is drenched, my heart swells and for once, there are no tears. I wanted to talk about beginnings in the end but I’m not part of this world anymore—