What am I trying to forget
by remembering so much?

***

And then —

Not so long ago,
they were just a text or a talk,
sometimes even a silent glance
away.
And instinctively,
I still turn to ask you.

***

A face in a picture.
A dish we ate.
What did we name your room
during Covid?
And that detective series
I was particularly fond of…
what was its name?

***

But I realise, with a soft nudge,
you are no longer on my phone list.

***

How will I find those names?
They seem lost
somewhere along with us.

***

A few more things got lost
as you forgot
what we once meant.
Perhaps.

***

Ah, the Selena Gomez series.
I remember the name now.

GK

Remembering to forget was originally published in Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Bonds

“She said,

We are just covalent bonds
The moment the temperature rises,
we dissolve;

like we never existed together
No fuss, no proof
Just like that. It’s give and take
A transaction of sorts

We are,
and we aren’t.”

“Salty much?” asked Sodium

“Ionic bonds,” said Chlorine,
“are more than about give and take.
Loyal
They stay
They persevere
They show up
when chemistry goes south.”

She wondered,

“Where are those ions?
Are they found
only in Sodium Chloride now?”

“And are covalent bonds
the fad of the day,
with Carbon bonding loosely
with half the periodic table?”

“Good for Carbon!” Sodium said.

“But what about
the other half
of the periodic table?”

“Well, some become
Argon or Neon

They don’t bond, then”

They just be.

“Oh! I see”

And the elements
get back to what they do best,

be themselves!

GK

In your Element was originally published in Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

How I sometimes wish it was you
Whom I surprised at the workplace
After long travels and the wait,

or sometimes just like that!
On whom I showered love

So graciously, uninhibitedly, undoubtedly.

Whom I understood better,

Be understood better
Whom I accommodated better,
Whom I loved better,
And showed it more,
Said it more.

How I sometimes wish
It was you
Whom I smiled at,
Whom I longed for
To listen as the day unfolded,
To tell the day’s stories,
With whom I had that tea,
And Sunday morning breakfasts

Whom I texted all the miss yous

The walks, the talks, the waltz.

Could it have been you, though?

Who got to know me every year,

of the passing time
I wonder that too.

But -

GK

Could it have been you? was originally published in Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

She once loved somebody
who was hers,
and they were theirs.

She had watched that love fade,
like the stars in the grey sky during Sunrise…

Like a siren, once close- loud, clear & deep …

grows fainter until the distance swallows it whole.

She was brave, or maybe just naive.
So now, she chooses to love
someone who cannot be hers
fully,
who can never be ‘those’.

It better be better this way!?

Someone distant

Someone safer

She once made promises
and kept those,
too

Like that ‘forever’ in their palms.

Those old frames,
once home to them,
now stared empty.

‘On sale.
10 frames for just a

100’.

She put up a little ad.

She could have given them away for free,
I thought.

But then I remembered
the smouldering love
even the voids carry.

She chose to send them off
with dignity and grace too.

"Just put some great art, will you?!"

She said to the woman
who came to buy them.

And, she handed them over with a smile

Again,
like a piece of cake.

It once held something beautiful.
It deserves something else, maybe better.
And that's all.

Now she still feels love,
still speaks from the heart,
but damn,
she can neither make
nor believe promises
the way she once did,
with such conviction.

Somewhere,

the old promises
are still breaking.

She once taught somebody
the tea she liked.

It became theirs
a moment every evening
to choose each other.

Oh, she taught it again.
They have it too.

It's just that the moment
isn't the same.

Neither is the way she chooses.
Neither is the way she believes.
Neither is the way she belongs
to anyone.

A good thing, maybe.

GK

Love in the wreckage was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Autumn takes over
Convalescing colours
A handshake done- gracefully

The fallen leaves
The hovering trees
Stoically! Observing
What they held once and
What they now let go!

GK

The spring awaits! was originally published in Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The countless 11 p.m. pheteli coffees
Overlooking the famous park
The discourses and arguments
Retro music and the vada pao
My green chilli and your tomato sauce
The mirror, the kettle
The retro toffees- the mango bites

Doesn’t seem so long ago
That high chair-table--our favourite
Small but cozy
Next to the sound of

falling water-

the kettle from above

…

…..

……..

That place closed, isn't it?

But that table---overlooking
some other park now
might wonder...

Did they find each other again?

It must be sad.

“I liked those two.’'

-GK

Overlooking the Park was originally published in Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Eyes meeting, sparks reach

Hands clasp, cheeks clash, lips redden

Euphoria?

*****

( or more…)

For some reason, glimmered by Khao Suey.

GK

Amore? was originally published in Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Your perfume lingers…

The old Barcelona T-shirt
I wore
holds you
long after
you leave.

.

So does the comforter,
and the pillow
I hug at night.

.

They adsorb your scent.

And, as we both know,
adsorption is temporary.

.

Just like
you said
you were to me…

GK

The perfume was originally published in Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I dreamt of you
The words arrived
effortlessly

I remember that much
But just as much

I don’t recall anymore
What those sentences
were to me

Why I wrote those
What they meant
or what they spoke

I wish I had a scribe
To look upon my dreams

To make the ephemeral stay
Just a while longer

To touch and feel
To read aloud
To smell its texture
To sing its sound

I woke up

Now, no trace
No recollection
Of the could-have-been

Just a few dimming imprints
Like someone we once knew
Now estranged
Unrecognisable

Just a feeling
Something here existed
and maybe waited,

Hoping
To be written

GK

The almost forgotten was originally published in Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It is poignant,
almost unbelievable,
that someone
who once held you

Now, from the periphery,
listens to your poems
to perhaps understand you!

To understand themselves,
as if they never did.

Maybe they never did!

GK

Do they still talk? was originally published in Weeds & Wildflowers on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.