I try not to think
Of those rain-soaked days
Of the grassy smell
From the meadows in front of our house
Of those lazy summer afternoons in bed
Where I fell asleep
Listening to the soft tapping
Of your fingers on the laptop
With my head resting on the curve
Of your bare back
I try not to think
Of the setting sun by the Mediterranean
And the New York Times bestseller
On my chest
Like a baby clinging to her mother’s bosom
Opened on page ninety-three
And you, a few yards away from me
Penning down the last line of a poem
Which might never be published
And might just be
For my eyes only
I try not to think
About the numerous times we cooked together
From the recipes we found on the internet
And then settled for a pizza and wine
As even our dog would refuse to eat
what we whipped up
I try not to think
About those aimless long drives at night
When the speedometer will flirt with the nineties
And I would read you Cummings
In the spotlight of my phone
I try not to think
About the starry night
Under which we slept in our backyard
And I told you I was pregnant
With our first baby
About the movie theater
Where we were the only two
Watching a cult classic
About the dingy one-bedroom studio
Where we first started
Our journey together
I try not to think
I try not to think
Because
Every time I think of them
The bruises under my bra
And on my back hurt bad
I open my eyes
And all become a blur!!!
Image courtesy: Pixabay
