Acts of Love

The day is weary
But the night is young
The starry night plays on my left foot
The violet anklet is snug where it is
I steal a glance at his almond eyes
Red-edged almond eyes
I know he had looked at me a moment before
We are careful not to coincide
My chest is aghast with a wild song
My fingers numb with desire
I want to touch him
My phantom has done some things
Confessed some things
My mortal shell remains frozen
Bitten by chips of reality
Tiny chips that together make a frenzied resonance
That make me calculate actions divided by outcome which could be multiplied by the unknown probability of rejection
Rejection, I know tastes like sawdust
The result is nil
I am still, still
I watch the thoughts die
I watch the moment pass
I witness my suffering end
I witness my small death
I wake up, make my bed
I make him breakfast
By the door, as I leave, he thanks me
Why, I ask
Not asking truly, but as a natural flow of conversation which leads to silence and full stop as I enter the lift shaft
Did you take everything, he asks
I assure him and gravitate down
But I return in moments
My handkerchief is missing
Somehow the handkerchief was important
I ring the bell, he looks for it
We both stand then in an awkward moment of embarrassment
I leave again, without a goodbye
Later, in tea-break,
As I walk towards the loo
I find my handkerchief in my jeans pocket
Where I always keep it - handy
Earlier that day,
The train journey away from his home was quiet
Quiet and sunny
The sunrays entered my left eye from the window as I stared out
Entered and stay put
I was still
I hadn't even thanked him for the violet anklet.

- Chandni Girija
19-11-2017