Moving Out- Moving On



After box
Twenty four years-
How many boxes
Would it take
I wonder?

A cupboard
Full of memories
Dog eared books
With splashes of curry
And some with
Pen marks angry-
An attack no doubt
In retaliation.

A sneeze
As dust rises
From old memories
A picture
With a crossed out face
A crush?
An ex-boyfriend?
Ah, no, a friend.
Who broke my heart
And stole my guy.

A bundle
Ribbon wrapped
Having cards
With stick figures
In crayons
Melting into the pages.

Mills and Boons
Hidden deep under
The books on Science
And Programming,
Along with the cards
He gave me-
Still moist
With memories
Of that kiss
On that day
The heavens poured,
With my heart
Some more some more…

Letters flutter,
Falling to the ground.
Letters written
But never posted,
Never given.
Letters crossed
And rewritten
And crossed
Some more.
Letters with blots
Of ink
Of tears.
Letters begun
With a childish scrawl
And ended
In a modish hand.

The locked diaries
Full of pages
Like a cop’s PNB
“Saw him…”
“Met him…”
“Talked with him…”
“He looked at me…”
Oh the love!
Oh the pain!
Oh the glee!

A scrapbook
Of crushes
Old and new
And then
Some timeless.
Few pages pristine
Few yellowing
After touches
By fingers giddy.
Then some
With lipstick stains-
Borrowed, no doubt
Like the heels
And the glares
In the Polaroid pic
Yellowing with age.

Small bangles
Too precious
To be thrown.
The clothes
I made,
For my doll
By my brother.
The one eyed teddy
With fraying hands
And cotton pouring
Out of his tummy.

The college notes
Filled with lectures
And caricatures
And confessions,
With my plans
For Friday.
Still hot
Still wicked
Still hurting,
Reeking of betrayal.

A white hanky-
His hanky-
With red stains.
My hurt finger
His concern
My love
And the heartbreak
In knowing
It never would be.

The Walkman
The cassette
Of mixed records
He gifted me.
The scrapbook
From school
Full of wishes
For a future
Which hasn’t yet
Come true.
A non dust eraser
Bought for a friend
Whose I lost
But who instead
Made a friend
Brand new.

The mechanical pencils
With missing nibs.
Broken crayons
With Monster heads.
Water colours
Broken, parched
Brushes bristling
In the neglected dark.
Pressed flowers
Slightly fragrant
A Rose I stole
From his coat
A dried leaf
Crackling dry
But slightly torn
Through the heart
Drawn with his initials.

A glass jar
Filled with
Dead remains-
Spoils of War,
Fought and won,
With Ants.

Friendship bands
And bracelets
Now too small,
Too childish,
Like the hair clips
I had thought
Too grown up.
The movie ticket
From my first date
And smoothened
A hundred times
And one.

All packed.
Except the dust
And the musty smell
Except the laughter
In the now empty room.
Except the scrawls
On the walls,
The initials on the bed.
Except the creak
Of my cupboard.
Except the light filtering
Through my window,
Which woke me up
Oftener than my alarm.
Except the walls
With its patches of paint
And it’s legacy
Of posters
Changing with seasons
And crushes.
Except my door
Which kept out the world
As I dissolved
In misery, anguish
And fear.

Much have I discarded
Much discarded me
As I move on now
Packing my life
Into cardboard boxes
Sealing with tape
The memories.

3 thoughts on “Moving Out- Moving On

    1. Just recently moved down south after about 24 years of breathing in the northern winds. The stimulus was so immediate and real that I could not help writing this way. Glad you liked it! Thank you! πŸ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s