Faint Traces Of Your Memory \\k.s

It was a Sunday morning, I distinctly remember.

I sipped on my coffee as I hummed to myself,

While you laid on the other end of the saloon.

We locked eyes, for what seemed like eternity,

Before I looked away and perhaps, you didn’t.

It was a Sunday morning, I distinctly remember.

When you took me out for breakfast for the first time ever.

I could feel your eyes admiring my face as I savoured the waffles that you had ordered for us.

I remember how I blushed while you complimented me for my dress.

I remember how you made me smile for the first time in weeks.

I remember how your gaze never left my face all day.

But just don’t remember how you did that so perfectly.

It was a Sunday morning, I distinctly remember.

When you held my hand into yours and looked right into my eyes.

I could feel my cheeks turn red as you pulled me closer and lessened the distance between us.

I remember how I felt the butterflies in my stomach while you looked at me with so much affection.

I remember feeling your breath on my neck while I looked down to the ground.

I remember how you cupped my face, making me meet your gaze before you pulled me into your embrace.

But just don’t remember how we fell in love that quick.

It was a Sunday morning, I distinctly remember.

When you knocked at my door, early in the morning.

I could feel my smile grow wider as you handed me those lovely, red roses.

I remember how you made me blush, yet again, with your wonderful compliments.

I remember how you made me fall deeper in love with you, so perfectly.

But just don’t remember how you managed to do that so effortlessly.

It was a Sunday morning, I distinctly remember.

When we finally exchanged our vows,in front of our families in the Church.

I could feel your eyes on me as I walked down the aisle.

I remember how you took my hand into yours and murmured yet another compliment.

I remember how you looked into my eyes as we exchanged our rings.

But just don’t remember, how we grew that strong within a year.

It was a Sunday morning, I distinctly remember.

When you stepped out of the house, with your luggage right beside you.

I could feel my eyes getting teary as I saw you leaving.

I remember you telling me that you’d return soon while holding me in your embrace.

I remember you giving me kisses on my cheek, trying to make me feel better.

I remember you taking your first step out of the house, promising to return soon.

But just don’t remember how soon, you said you’d come.

It was a Sunday morning, I distinctly remember.

When I kept myself preoccupied in the company of a dirty liar named nostalgia.

I could feel the pain and sorrow while switching through our pictures in the gallery.

I remember smiling through the pain, watching you hold my hand in the photograph as I smiled to the ground.

I remember recalling our moments, day after day, trying to miss you a little lesser.

I remember crying myself to sleep, praying that you would come back soon.

But just don’t remember how all of my prayers went unanswered.

It was a Sunday morning, I distinctly remember.

When you locked eyes again, but this time not mine brown, but her black ones.

I could see your grin grow wider as she whispered something in your ears as my heart stopped for an instance.

I remember, you making her blush, like how you used to make me.

I remember, you calling her ‘beautiful’, the same way you used to call me.

I remember, you holding her hand, as if it were mine.

I remember, you loving her the same way you loved me.

I remember, tears rolling down my eyes as you broke my heart into a million little pieces.

I remember, my soul leaving my body, gradually, as it no longer had enough strength to hold on.

I remember, missing you.

Loving you.

Wanting you.

But just don’t remember, leaving you.

© Khushi Suneja

If Only… \\k.s

If only, you had not left my place in disgust,

I could have apologized.

If only, you had waited at my doorstep,

My girl, I would have treated you right.

If only, you had slapped me a couple o’ times,

I would have realized.

If only, you had been in your senses,

We would have never had this fight.

If only, you had seen the truth in my eyes,

We’d have been alright.

If only, you had listened to your heart,

And not the demons inside.

If only, you had kept your anger,

And that frustration aside.

If only, you had not banged that door,

And simply, stride.

If only, you had not found your car keys,

And driven at midnight.

AND…

If only, you had not met that fatal truck,

You’d had still been by my side.

© Khushi Suneja

To Jess, With Love \\k.s

I flipped through the pictures of my princess’s childhood album. Jess, my princess. I smiled at the sight of my daughter showing her pearly whites while riding on my back. Just seeing her smile is one of my favourite things ever.Next, I saw a picture of hers screaming as she, for the first time ever, was about to ride a roller coaster. I must admit, I was pretty scared too. You know, a father’s heart. Being the possessive father that I really am, I’m always pretty much scared about her safety. No matter how old she ever gets, but I’m always going to be really possessive over her. By the way, she’s going to turn twenty this year.

Shortly, I shut the album close and took out a piece of paper from my desk as I began to write my letter. Yes, I’ve been writing her letters since she left home for London 3 years ago to live her dreams and do what she loves. But for some reasons she hasn’t been replying to me for the last 2 years.

I’ve been waiting all these years for her to come home. But unfortunately, she never did. Probably, she must have been busy studying. Not a problem, though. My Jess promised me to come back and all that I know is that my Jess never breaks her promises.

So I wrote and wrote about everything I felt like. I went about telling her how much I love her, how much I miss her.

And then I heard those footsteps.

“What are you doing Jeff?” I heard my wife say.

I ignored her as I knew what was coming next.

“Writing her letters again?”

“Yes” I replied in a cold voice.

“It’s pointless. Stop.” She insisted.

“NO, I WOULD’NT!” I protested.

“BUT HONEY, SHE DIED 2 YEARS AGO!” She screamed as tears rolled down her eyes.

“NOPE, SHE DIDN’T! My Jess, would never break her promise! You’re lying!”

But in our hearts we both knew who lied. So I resumed writing her letter with a reminiscent finger, hoping that she could read through those scrawled words.

© Khushi Suneja