are memories living or dead

Art by Aditya Damle

It's been a long day,

it's dark out now.

I'm sure, somewhere,

carcasses of my memories,

memories of you, are catching up with each other.

Of you, guilting me into sharing a smoke.

You, sneaking me in your hostel room.

You, giving up making me try your drink.

You, before The Talk, creased forehead and tense hands,

and your hands, always warm against my skin, always cold.

Carcasses of my memories,

memories of you, are catching up with

other memories, memories

Of me, reminding you to pause the chatter and take a drag.

Me, sneaking out of the hostel room.

Me, months later, stealing a sip from your peg.

Me, after The Talk, insisting on dessert,

dessert that is only bitter now.

Somewhere in the dark

the carcasses of my memories,

memories of us

are dancing to the song I wrote you,

a song I haven't heard in a month and two days.

They're laughing at something in the distance,

something I don't remember because I was looking at you.

Flipping through the last time we sat at our café,

our café that I haven’t been to since you left.

It's been a long day

without you.