eulogy

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there’s a graveyard that lives within me,
meant for the undead.
I carry it everywhere I go.
I have pink flowers, unfinished poetry
and giggles buried there;
three forbidden words float in the sultry air.
the walls have no windows and the graves are
painted shut with grief.
there exists a language only grief knows.
it is taught in shades of blue.
it is made of silly, abstract translations:
‘I’m sorry (I love you). how are you (I love you).
I thought of you today (I love you).
study well (I love you).
it hurts (I love you). you broke me (I love you).
I’m cutting you off (I love you).’
isn’t it funny, the brutal infidelity of memories to the heart,
the paradox in hurting something that’s already hurt.
I still remember watching you look up at that scrambler-
smiling like a little kid, and
thinking how I’ll love you forever
and somehow it still wouldn’t be enough.
I still remember sitting beside you,
arm in arm, my head leaning onto your shoulder,
on our way to kottayam, thinking how beautiful it felt
to be alive and breathing, next to you.
I still remember breaking down
at this little shop nearby, two days after you
told me you didn’t love me anymore,
when I saw a stack of mountain dew bottles
and thought of how you had once
told me that you liked them.
to remember means to be haunted.
let me tell you something.
call it my last act of love.
there are three things I forgot to tell you:
-I know only two contact numbers by heart, and one is yours.
I could almost call you up a thousand times
from anywhere across the world to tell you that I miss you.
almost, before I stop myself every time, because I know
that you’ll recognise the crack in my voice.
-there are only two faces that cannot be smudged from my brain
by time or space, and one is yours.
I’ll look for it in every crowd.
I’ll think of how I can never trace or kiss
that little line of moles near
your left cheek again, from time to time.
-I have ended up hating myself every time I tried to hate you.
they tell grief is love with no place to go.
you are grief. you are the glitch I want in memory.

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