ALL MY LIFE I’VE WANTED TO WRITE THIS POEM

The morning cup of coffee has to wait these days

till the last dregs of the afternoon are trickling down

the sky, running headlong into the sultry cage of evening.

Thunder rent the air today, halting the drowsy,

sleepwalking daily grind in its tracks. The last time 

I was caught in the downpour was months ago.

I had made my way home in the dark, feeling as if

I had been drenched down to my very bones. 

Much later, there was the oppressive heat 

and the blare of the traffic and your hands 

in my hair. I had imagined the winds serenading us 

instead. Everytime it rains I want to kiss you, 

go back to that dark, lonely evening, shake myself, and run 

till I find you. The hours blur into each other now 

and whenever I write, the words slip 

from my fingers and start talking to you 

in the dark of the night. Remember when you spent

nights unravelling the knots in my stomach?

You told me I could leap the six feet between us

whenever I wanted, I’m telling you there was nothing

before the leap. Sometimes I think I was always

carrying you with me like a fist wrapped

around my heart. You don’t make breathing easy, 

you can’t, but you make it easier. 

Mahima Kapoor is an English postgrad from Delhi, India, who divides her time between reading and writing for work and pleasure. Her work has previously appeared in Turnpike Magazine.