there is a searing in my chest
as I shed this skin of
nostalgia-laced prayers

the coldest night of the year falls
as I remember when I felt cold with you –

solemn breaths of the sea
heaving against a ragged coast

Irish rain drowning the countryside
with the aching vigor of an old god

the black trees that spoke of loneliness
cliffs cloaked in the seduction of solitude

gray castle walls climbing towards the sky,
encircling us in cold medieval stone

when I was with you I felt everything
until nothing was left

you left me with piles of driftwood
hinting at the shipwreck below

like redrawing constellations
you erased me from the sky,

I discard your cruel revisions
and bury our goodbyes

– Shashank Bhardwaj