Redhya

while scrolling through your feed on instagram, an innocent jealousy messes with your head when you come across a few beautiful pictures of some old friends. unwillingly, you like some posts, skip some, however, ignore the most. Finally, you bump into a plain but nostalgic poem – “some old friends” “no one reads these days!” tired and stressed out, that’s all you can say. sighing, you fall facedown onto your bed, throw your phone away, put a messy cushion over your head, and take a nap to escape away rhythmic tremors earthquake! bloody no! it’s your phone, idiot. vibrations, they certainly disturb your soul in a dreamy state, don't they? in your dreams, you were probably in heaven drinking wine with sultry demons. you check your phone with no emotions, “mother!” you keep the phone silent and flipped it over; it make you believe that you fortuitously missed some more calls. still lying on the bed with a restless mind, state of jactitation, you feel an ineffable agit

was it love or the cheap liquor, i’d bought reluctantly, compelled you to unbutton my green, cotton shirt and tossed it away in that messy room? that uninteresting night, behind those dark, heartless clouds, that moon was desperate to be seen and narrated by an emotionless poet to their lover. you made the night blush. the moon glistened more as my cold fingers stroked your right ear. under the dim yellow light, you lay upon me. as I rubbed the phallus, under the space-coloured blue pants of mine, over the tender clit under that cute, tight pyjama of yours. you pushed your pelvis into my groin that shiver in your voice later and those electrified, tiny hair strands around your neck - how can I forget? i’d be lying if i said that it hadn’t gotten me off. i was provoked to feel, breathe and explore you. somewhere it was hilly, and somewhere it was beachy on you. i thought you’d be impressed by the way i unhooked your brassiere. but your wits. ha-ha! you questioned, “who taught you?” i

fuck! i miss you. no! i don’t want you back. but i really miss you. i wish i could reread those deleted midnight chats to live with you again even if it exists until the next tick of the second hand. i hope - someday, after getting drunk, when the party’s over and you’re all alone, you call me. pouring your heart out, you moan - i still love you. a beautiful summer day and some warm sun rays let me begin with some bittersweet moments we shared together, because some are interested in our history. i hadn’t been in a relationship before. i was ‘i’ all along, thus ‘we’ was something new to me. you made me plunge into the beauty of the moon and taught me how to see constellations. listening to love songs for hours and hours, we sat under trees and watched stars twinkling. you hated goodbyes. young and mindless, we were full of lives, we spent summers being crazy and restless. every night, on calls, your voice would arouse me. the absence of logic; the influx of emotions i’d feel a sudden

lying in bed, a dead stare at the ceiling of a cold room is a gateway to a thousand thoughts. somewhere inside my head, i visualise some long gone moments being played all over again – a few long-standing friends on a riverside splashing frigid water over each other whilst sipping cheap liquor. now – at a summer wedding, the old friends are standing close to me - unable to comprehend i’m not with them. the closeness is missing - do i not know them? we’d divulge our secrets and fears, now we get surprises by posts and others. i’m not disappointed we went separate ways. though, it seems a little blue, for it happened so soon. sigh! we could’ve stayed longer and soaked in the moments in order to rewind and pause them wherever needed. we talked less, but when we did, we turned yellow. now the laughter is lost somewhere the culprit is that bastard time. some claim to find their soul-mates, a couple others curse love and hit the bottle everyday. a few work tirelessly to be big, and others ca