Somak Ghoshal



Before I knew you, I knew a day would come
when you’d hold me tight, and together
we’d take a deep breath and sink into sleep
careful not to drown in each other’s dreams

Yet float we did, night upon wordless night,
Without air, lips sealed shut, till the day
I prised them apart to taste your poison

Before I knew you, I knew I’d be lying
on this bed, thinking of you, still, awake.


At two o’ clock the shadows begin to stir,
sliding off the wall, hovering over the bed,
filling the air with sour thoughts,
a fresh trick on all seven nights


The hours peel off to reveal the layers of light
curdled like the cup of milk by the side of the bed.
The day waits outside, peeping through the curtains
I stifle another yawn, turn a new page, eyes unmoved
Morning comes with the thought of fresh coffee,
no longer with the memory of your breath on my face.


Somak Ghoshal is a writer and editor based in New Delhi.

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