I stopped writing letters

I'd listen for you
in the hum of humming bird
and look around, in every star
in every nook and crevice
in every sunset and every sunrise!

I stopped writing letters

The doctor says

Blood cells in my body are depleting

How shall he know,

The heart ain’t a mere pump

Beating, thumping, trickling ….

Oh inapt,

How shall thou determine ailment

by sensing the pulsation?

But ought you dive to depths of heart

And listen intently

to discover ‘faults’ in the story

Is it de rigueur to exhaust blood?

I squandered, till today

Blood-ink that the deity gave

At times, together with her,

Largely- much before time

And, what remains now is

All for her to use this pump

I stopped writing letters

As no one’s left to read them now

Left are ones, who check grammar between lines

Left are ones who check nerves, not emotions anyway

I stopped writing letters

My doctor says: the blood has run out

How shall he know-

The triumph, whatever, too is ailing now

And maybe…

Maybe he knows, my heart is a mere pump now.

I stopped writing letters [to her]