it had been years since i set my eyes upon the past,
i watched as my fingers flipped through its forgott
now tattered and torn from the edges
the lady on the hardcover had deformed,
the consequence of time, i suppose
i traced the horrendous handwriting, laughing
at my pathetic diary entries and sad attempts at poetry
i looked at my naïve self, smiling and wondering if she’d ever imagined me
being here today
hastily, i willed my fingers to find
the first page,
the first flower
from the first lover, my heart had ever known.
the rose, faded and lifeless still
rested on the front page, broken and withering
i jumped back to the afternoon of 25th january, 2016.
he knelt in front of me,
my knees at level with his nose,
little had i known that my fantasy was metamorphosing into reality
with the vermilion rose, in one hand
he bestowed his heart
into my sole custody, eternally.
twenty-five beats later, my restless tongue
betrayed my shaking head: “yes, my jaan!”
i close my book shut, and jog back to reality
for he has arrived to begin our dinner,
stealing my sanity.
Jaan - Urdu word, means “soul/life/mind/vigor/sweetheart/beloved”