Midnights still find me retracting the moments
That led to our thousand lakeside kisses;
There were secrets left in a summer dream
Each second a bowline knot leading straight to our late night drives
And vehicle breakdowns
And last minute goodbyes at the break of dawn
Midnights still find me sleeping
Next to a shoebox of the books you left;
I still hear your voice when I read the lines
Of your favourite paragraphs
The clock hands,mocking, leading me
Through a maze of memories and parking lot conversations.
Midnights still find me rewriting histories
With resin-pressed flowers,
Maybe the petals will point out to where
I started losing you-
And maybe it's in every direction
The black, bold numbers have become my crumbs
Leading to road trips and to all the bus stops we missed, kissing;
Now I still miss my stop without your lips next to mine
And midnights still find me
Writing poems like these
But clearly you are too far off
For these words to reach
Srilekha Mitra
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