Memories that leave and stay.

Vilmos Heim, via Unsplash.

Do you remember
nights
the sky would tear
into two,
stardust falling
on our lips,
while we melted gold
with our tongues.

Nights,
when the stars would
break open,
raining velvety drops
of periwinkle poetry,
each one bursting open
mid-air,
and falling down,
lying there
like little ellipses,
in different shades of love.

Nights,
when poetry would bloom
on the inside
of my wrists,
while your voice
composed songs
of the sirens
in the hollows
above my collarbones.

Nights,
when you would compare
the magic
in my eyes
to the aurora borealis,
while the hum
of your fingertips
would ignite me,
like fractured light bulbs
strung
on the inside
of my skin.

Do you remember
the nights,
when insanity would
lie at our feet
like unwrapped gold.
Nights,
when we wanted
to be the sky.
Nights,
where possibility
was the air we would breathe.

Memories of these nights,
they leave,
and they stay.
-Rupali Jeganathan
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