The summer I had my first heartbreak,
You'd let me impregnate your shirt with my tears.
You smelled of cologne and warmth
And presumably love?
Maybe. I was oblivious.
Maybe. I couldn't fathom then,
With my heart-fragile and splintered.
You'd joke about my ravaged mascara
Feeding me scoops of ice cream-
Butterscotch-you knew,my favourite.
Next summer would be better, you avowed.
The ensuing monsoon you showed up at my door
Drenched in rain, paperboats in hand.
We'd floated them till the gloaming
Sipping chai in betwixt- once, twice,or maybe more
You told me I looked happier,
I concurred with a dangling look of bemuse.
I wasn't doused in blues,I lied.
Scars embroidered in my lacerated heart
Echoed in truth.
The web of raindrops on my lashes
Blended with my cascading teardrops,
Perhaps abrading away my face's despondent hues.
Autumn's auburn arms you said was your favourite.
We'd walked-
Through blankets of dessicated foliage
Knitted in scarlet and gold,
Inhaling redolance of cider and cinnamom
I asked you if crushing an old love was as easy
As crushing strewn maple leaves,
You'd laughed, your gorgeous eyes twinkling.
You hugged me beside the autumn bonfire
That day you smelled a bit like home.
You told me you loathed winters as much I loathed raisins in my pudding.
We were planting dahlias in my garden that December morn,
When I told you
I'd buried my summer memories in winter's cold heart,
Freezing long incessant pain,
Letting bleak winds carry away the clandestine tragedy.
You asked me if the winter had frozen my heart too.
I offered you a handful of rose petals in my soiled hands and a letter.
And your eyes I saw, sparkling the brightest.
The following spring bloomed from your heart-
Ever so vibrant ,benign,warm.
You told me my cheeks bled red-
Darker than the roses in your bouquet.
I told you I loved your voice more than the birdsongs
And your music more than the babbling brooks.
You asked me if you could plant a new summer
In the barren heart where I'd uprooted an old love
You asked me if I would dip my pen in your soul
Garnering ink to scribble your poetry.
And I gifted you my heart,wrapped in the brightest blossoms of spring.
The summer following my first heartbreak,
You'd let me impregnate your lips in my lipstick shade
You smelled of cologne,warmth and surely home.
That summer,I'd fallen in love again...
©pragya
P