This Eve

By Shreya Bejwani

the book on the table is about Europe

the old record plays

the pink of the walls is awfully hurtful to look at

this evening you're watching the autumn leaves fall

and I stare at your green eyes flicked with yellow

of the light that falls on your fingernails making them golden

your shadow flat on the wall

the record skips

setting the melody on its forward course again

circling the center hole in the flat black disk

little words

too small for any hope or promise or reassurance

it remains soothing nonetheless

so I won't say the big ones

the ones that might ruin everything by being said out loud

I'll let the silence take over

saying what I cannot :-

I gave you my heart please don't ever give it back to me

By Shreya Bejwani