Fossilised

The hopes you had raised
that evening
still stir occasionally
in the dark closets
of my memory.

Your words and phrases
punctuated by smiles
and twitching eyebrows
still breathe somewhere
between the pages
of my notebook.

Yes, you were one of those
who made it to those pages
and will remain there
fossilised,

gathering vividness
every time the pages flutter
in the winds of my solitude,

recreating that muggy evening
when my heart had danced a
secret dance,
unseen and soundless,

reminding me of your
oblivion then
and thereafter.

Oblivion-- so precious
whose absence
would have made me feel
vulgar.

The hopes you had raised
that evening
still stir occasionally
in the dark closets
of my memory,

but now I have learnt
the art of being deaf
to their pleas.

They were too demanding;
I was too inadequate.

~ aviD