The Ships That Never Sailed

 "I would never love someone like I love you."

I promised in full sincerity. 

To the first I ever loved.

In letters, journals and poetry 

Pouring my heart out in words 

For that was the only way I knew 

To shower love.

But what value would words have 

To the deaf ears of materialism? 

I was blamed for not being like 

The rest of them.

(What does that even mean?) 

And there I stood. Abandoned.

"I would never love someone like I love you." 

I said to the second chance. 

In emails, messages and raw emotion 

Often disguised as crude jokes. 

I was afraid to be vulnerable. 

This time, there was no goodbye. 

Ghosted by humans and memories of the past. 

I was shattered.

"I would never love again..."

I looked at you and lied.

You weren't my first of anything. 

Nor special like that.

Not one who would reassure,

"I am not like them."

How would I know?

I pushed you away because 

I was scared of hurting myself; 

So I hurt you instead.

"I would never love someone the way I love you." 

I looked into the mirror, tired, sleepless eyes 

Unhealthy habits and wary of the body 

I promised myself this time. 

And I intend to keep my vow.

© Suranya

The Smell of Home

 Freshly peeled potatoes

Dipped in water in a discarded steel bowl 

Smell of new pastel colours on paper 

Petrichor of Kalbaisakhi 

Shiuli, Bel, Jui of seasons 

First aroma of Ilish Khichuri 

That one plastic lay with dust 

Perched in a corner, nobody dares to open

God knows what lies inside. 

Sound of the whirling fan 

Smell of old books and dust 

Alpona and Dhunuchi of Pujo 

Saree from your mother.

Morning conch shell Summer Kulfiwalas 

That creaking door you dare not close 

All that feels like home.

Sometimes missed or frowned at 

But never left behind 

In the lanes of nostalgia 

Every time you travel back 

Through stories of childhood.

© Suranya

The First Kiss

 Do you remember the first time on the couch,

I had my arms around you like I always did. 

And you hid your face from the horror movie

In the protection of my chest, 

I laughed at your reaction 

Lifting your head up by the chin. 

Our noses touched, and then we hesitated. 

The curiosity growing in us 

To know, explore and taste. 

We gave in to the youth's call.

Our lips touched for the first time. 

Do you remember I asked 

Are you sure?

You said there is no turning back from this point

On other days, I would debate it, 

Today, all I could do was nod 

And give in to lust 

Promising myself it was love 

When it wasn't 

Perhaps to make me feel better 

When I saw it in your eyes.

~ Suranya

Spring

Does spring remind you 

Of rejuvenation and rebirth?

To me, spring is nostalgia. 

Of childhood days and observations 

Of whirling fans in examination halls

The stress of all-nighters 

The loadshedding spent telling and hearing stories.

The first blooms of Krishnachura 

Painting the concrete bright red.

Spring reminds me of sunshine days.

The first saree, clad in yellow. 

The first date by a lake 

The first kiss of what love should have been.

 Does spring remind you of someone?

You love and celebrate?

It reminds me of the me I lost, loved and treasured.

The innocence of youth 

The trauma of heartbreak.

Spring reminds me of where I was 

And where I belong

In better spring memories.

~ Suranya