The Static

The pepper night hues
seasoned with
turmeric lights
that we savoured together
are now recipes of
insipid vacuous gloom
plattered with pain
and despodency
the mothballed sleeps
yield no dreams anymore
and clock only drags
with a cumbrous weight
“time never felt as heavy
when you were here”

the only thing motile
left in me now
are my thoughts
peripatetic, wayfaring
vagrant and itinerant
rest I am all static
quiescent
and almost torpid
like the sky
with its immutable latency

yes, I know
I could have counted
my breaths too
the alter in my chest
from high to low then high
with every inhale and exhale
which follows
but let’s not be deceived
for I hope you know
it’s been fairly long
that I disowned them
and what I snort now
are only borrowed gasps
from the remains of
exanimated life
that you left me with.

~ Chhaya