Bhawana Yadav

November 4, 1997, India

Spring

For the longest time, I thought I knew what it was
like the spring after a chilly winter
brushing snowflakes from your jacket and wishing for those daisies to bloom
maybe it was the platonic turn of poles
and the fate busted as the mighty, scorching, ruthless ball of fire
destroyed the spirit of little daisies
you were no less than that blistering weather
leaving me demented
you walked away
after a bizarre show of vulnerabilities
I picked up scattered pieces of my heart and walked again
in the hope of bringing my own spring and fill up the void you left
wore my favorite breezy shirts
chatted amicably
flirted heartedly
people came and went like the summer
but you were still missing to chase out the emptiness of my chest
to fill the void which maybe only you had created
for the longest time I knew
packing bags, switching cities, counting men
will take me to the spring I desired
I traveled beyond my imagination, unraveling the lives of people
eating food which we used to talk about
blowing rings in the dark nights following the moon
maybe it was more than a puff of smoke
and you were still those daisies of my life which I watered and longed to see
you were the one unrecognized, less decorated hero of every movie I watched
you were ice to my faded, old rum
for the longest time, I knew searching the right piece
to fill that void might bring my sanity back
but today as the fragrance of lavenders bring smile to my dead heart
and spring to my life
I think, for the longest time I was pretending to love daisies and you
but now I know that Lavenders and I would go rather well.
Maybe, for the longest time, I was wrong.
-Bhawana Yadav
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