excerpts of a book I’ll never write

I was told that the universe feels human emotions and craft them with poetry, that needs to be seeked for.

The concept of soulmates embraced my senses when I was around seven. It was another cloudless summer afternoon. I sit beside my sick grandma’s bed and watch her eyes light up like two emeralds glistening with stardust as my grandpa plays his old harmonica; tunes misplaced yet both of them smile, for maybe love was all about celebrating the little things in life.

If gratefulness happened to have a face, it would definitely be my sister sobbing softly as she rocks her little rainbow baby in her arms.
Perhaps happiness is a young poet writing about sunflowers and hope instead of the boy who broke her heart in some café; for maybe miracles did came true, if only one decides to believe in them.

Stories of pretty skies with alternating colours, raindrops racing down the window pane,daisies, the sound of shared laughter, soft pillows, artworks and poems, fireflies, popsicles on a summer afternoon, vinyls, sunsets, faith – miracles smile beneath all these little things holding the idea of everything will be okay; for everything is going to be okay someday.

Hiraeth

My journal has been nothing but a scattered cluster of unfinished poems held together by raw unfiltered strings of emotions, of random sketches of lone strangers I spot in empty mini bars and small coffee shops, of long forgotten days and repressed feelings, of mindless doodles of sunsets and silhouettes – of undressed metaphors, that craved a muse.I sit by the seaside this morning with my mother and watch my dog chase the waves back and forth. It was another breezy Wednesday, the sky alternates between faint grey clouds and the vibrant yellow sun, while I am still finding my way somewhere in between. My friend told me that you were back in town two weeks ago and since then I have always made way up to here every Wednesday.

I wore an yellow shirt on our first date and that’s when you started to call me your sunflower
“You resemble yellow” you said, “vibrant ,lovely, spreading smiles to many”
“Yellow is my colour of love” I smile back.
I remember those nights, when you used to silently paint the bedroom walls with strings of sunflowers and lavenders and everytime my friends admired you work, you used to say how these sunflowers were me and you resembled the lavenders. My lavenders. The winter that followed ended with regrets that last till date. Feelings of the younger me have always lacked gravity, and four years later I still wish only if I had not left you heartbroken amd helpless just for another new face.

I suddenly spot you in a distance, among a group of girls,by the benches along the coffee shops. You wore a pastel summer dress. Your hair is short. It falls in loose curls by your shoulders. You skin in not pale anymore. I guess summers in Italy did you good. I hear you laugh and I can’t help but smile. I wanted to walk up to you and say things like,
“Hey I have heard, no, I have read your book. It’s amazing”
“Hi Em, long time no see, how have you been?”
“I missed you, so much”
“Can we be both sunflowers and lavenders again?”
But I didn’t. Without speaking a word I walk back to my car as my mother follows along with my dog.


“You should go talk to her,Wilder. Maybe…she misses you too” my mom silenty speaks as she keeps Emily’s book inside her bag.
I turn back and smile, “I am the reason her poetry has tasted heartbreak mum”

Sunflowers and Lavenders

Fabled pink mornings
Enfolded in faint dreamy clouds
Eager dates by the seaside awaited on breezy Wednesdays
I remember him wearing a sunflower-yellow shirt
“Yellow is my colour of love” he smiles

I painted strings of sunflower and lavenders upon my bedroom walls
Everytime I found it hard to fall asleep,
And they often admired
How the yellow your sunflowers blends well with my cluster of lavenders
Summer came with smiling promises
And happiness did bloom in our garden
But winter followed soon after

My lavenders crumbled with every passing day
Winter winds held stories of her own
Her feverfews smile in full bloom
Pleasing your sunflowers’ eye
Now only sorrow dwelled in our garden

Tonight as my wall of sunflowers and lavenders cast a fulfilled smile,
under the silent winter moonlight
I sit back and realise,
Maybe sunflowers and lavenders
aren’t just meant to be.