love

To The Lost Love That Keeps Haunting Me

Still from The Virgin Suicides, dir. Sofia Coppola

I still find you
in everything,
like under my fingernails
as I scrape for freedom,
like inside my lungs
as I gasp for air
knowing every molecule
has your name,
floating inside them.

I see you, hazel-eyed
sitting in my bed,
calling me,
I smell you, freshly-bathed
drawing me near.
I hear your voice,
claiming me,
whenever anyone comes
close enough to touch.

It is strange,
how you linger,
in every aspect,
of my existence,
like my pillow-cover
or the taste of my blood
inside my mouth
or,
in the poetry
that I had come to call
my own.

You are,
the reason,
as to why,
I cannot love,
anyone,
anymore,
not even the person
hiding in the depths
of the skin I wear
for clothes.

My lover asks me today
about how she looks.
I am voiceless,
I can’t tell her
that every moment,
of every day,
I imagine her,
looking exactly,
like you.

—

Sayan Sen is a 19-year-old from Kolkata, India, with a deep affection for puns and football. Currently pursuing Electrical Engineering, he loves poetry and loses his heart to all those who offer him food. He makes homes out of quotes and never says no to stargazing and 3 A.M heart-talks.

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