Monsoon

seasons
change
time
flies

and people leave.

however
every year
without fail

it rains
no

it pours.
everywhere
raindrops
unbiased

touch every soul.

not alike,
because some
of us
refuse to

let it touch us.

from the monsoons
in mumbai
to her
nothing has changed

she became a constant

from within
to without
nothing changed
even when

she moved half a world away.

but you did
oh, why?
tell me
why is it that hard

to continue being there
for someone

who never
stopped
being there
for you

communication
through a screen
is.harder.than.it.seems.

online.
offline.
blue ticks.
enable.

disabled.
“did you even read my message?”

it pours
lies
excuses
and more

my phone–
died
crashed
fell
broke
tore
got lost.

the raindrops
incessant
they know
the truth

i didn’t have time

time to
make it
break it
face it.

well, it is time we fixed it.

when it pours
it could flood
disrupt &
make its presence felt

establish that bond.

because
distance
has no
fixed convention.

it didn’t mean anything
before

so why
does it
engulf
bother
worry
you
now?

it happened once,
it is likely to happen again

it takes
more
time
energy
effort

to fake it, than to face it.

i see puddles now
and in them
a glimpse
of what could’ve been

had i given in to it

so i do
the next time
when the first
droplets fall

i abandon the umbrella
to choose mutual vulnerability
over selfish safety

trust fall
into her arms
the arms
that will and can

protect you better than your own.

challenge
distance
myth
time

the season comes and goes

sooner than you think
within a blink.

[ऋतु के लिए]

 

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