Receding July

In July,

I dreaded the months agone in painful shine- sparkling their way into the abyss of jeopardized memories painted sanguinary carmine;

Prosaically passing the nights with raindrops plummeting on roof-shingles and the thrumming of window panes; it’s a puzzling rhythm to determine.

In July,

I traced the brass nameplates of archaic households at the back of my mind to fathom out a familiarity I forethought in a dream;

Pensive puddles on muddy lanes splashing their way onto my arms, as passers-by step on them, setting them ever so agleam.

In July,

I swerved the rancour of last November that kaleidoscopically lunged forward in blinding flashes;

I blanketed myself from the past, dissolving the ruthless daylong crisis in scathing ashes.

In July,

I laid in bed for as long as I could, inspecting the veins of birch leaves with filmy eyes and flimsy fingertips;

I blew it away from the window, listened intently to the whoosh of the air giving it a most delightful flight then, shut my eyes to watch the same scene through the veiny shutter of my eyelids in clips.

In July,

Teardrops bled into the sky as it collapsed into smokes of flint whilst the fiery wings of butterflies fluttered into the night;

I compressed the crinkled pages of books that I left unread on purpose for they reminded me of you- blatant and bright.

In July,

I longed for your longing pleasantly, half a minute into the song I associate with you and I;

Past the blindness and the muted voices, I only hear echoes of that wistful last goodbye.

In July,

I left you voice messages that you turned a deaf ear to for my voice stirred those long buried tear-jerking memories in you;

“I know we made promises and left so many stories unfinished but on the spur of the moment it just felt like time was not in favour of you and I and I guess that’s where it ends. Perhaps, maybe, colour the last line blue?”

In July,

My heartbeat stopped untimely in steadfast motion, pulsing emotion and swooping erosion;

I hummed along in virtuous singsong fashion, wrote in pirouetting poetic rhythm, and swayed along to the sounds of the ocean.

In July,

I grew out of summer storms and faced rain storms at simultaneous moments;

Lived the seamless craters of joys and boundless vents of torments.

Goodbye July,

You were kind and painful.;

See around next time with cracks in the heart, soulful.

~ Riddhi Chakraborty

Notes: 30 minute writeup- an ode to July.