Late Night Thoughts- Slowly and Slowly

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Painting by Jarek Puczel

The days are still long and the nights still are immeasurable, but memories of you, the thought of you, your brown eyes, your big nose, your hands, all now lies on the horizon. There is no fear if they cross, or if they stay there. Slowly and slowly, the line would fade.

The ocean is dark and deep as it always was, but I have learned to swim. I no longer fear of getting drowned in you, by you. The tides roar high and search for me, but my feet have befriended sand, clasping it tight. I no longer fear of getting devoured by the eerie sound of the tides. The screams from the torrent of your ruthless love do not shut, but the calmness of letting you go is not perturbed. I no longer fear getting swallowed. Slowly and slowly, the ocean would dry.

Your sun has set, and the summer of love has faded away into the cold mist. The moonlight has disowned your shadow, and the stars don’t look for you, yet somehow your face is reflected when they twinkle. Slowly and slowly, the cold mist would cloud the stars.

The day you named my prayer a curse for you, I puked out all the love for you over the memories we shared. However, I doubt myself if I puked it all, while I write this, thinking about you. But I know that, I will spill them out, slowly and slowly, poem by poem, word by word, smoothly emptying my body, and making space for another love, the one I always deserved, the one worthy to have and worthy to keep.

-Kritika Vashist

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26 thoughts on “Late Night Thoughts- Slowly and Slowly

  1. Having experienced the difficult ending of a relationship recently….this touched me, touched home. At times I wish I could puke it all out at once, and be done with it. But there are still remnants that pop up and need to be dealt with. I love the ocean, but found comfort in your words, “the ocean would dry.” It seems a relief at the moment. Thank you, this is eloquent as usual.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. But I know that, I will spill them out, slowly and slowly, poem by poem…

    …and then it will be time to stop writing poems so encumbered and not waste words on broken things and appreciate our new found freedom. Thanks visit my blog.

    Liked by 1 person

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