Photo credit: Ryan Holloway
Lampshades
By Sabeeha Khan
they ask me how I knew it was true love
when I never touched you like a lover does
when my smile never touched you like rays of the sun
after the clouds shift on a cold winter day
why I was so content to let the threads
stringing us together stretch and wane
when I knew you’d be straying further than any ball of yarn ever could
when it ends in tragedy, but that comes later
unrequited, but that comes later.
I tell them when I can, each time a bit more
how sitting next to you was like a breath of fresh air
how my dying mind at fourteen felt revived
like a parasite
all because of the energy you used to emanate
how falling in love wasn’t falling at all
but more like a sunset
one minute not, the next a burst of colors
and then gone; the sun has set. my love has settled
and the burst of colors has a steady, soft glow
burns quietly like a lamp in the middle of the night
and I sit in the lampshade, quietly contemplating
I tell them how every smile you gave me was like a sip of water to someone dying of thirst
ice slowly melting into water
tepid after basking in the sunlight
and a slow realization the way summer softly settles into skin
that I could live with you forever and somehow be happy
forsaking religion, foregoing reality
abandoning my conscience, all other love secondary
the way winter quietly seeps into bone
that I could give my life away for others but I could live for you
my mind giving me relief from the shadows
the heavy clouds seemed to throw over me
the courage to have a personality
to love with my whole heart, (just not when it comes to you, but that comes later)
I ask them what is love, if it is not the
abnormal thudding of my heart and the
foolishness of my mind if I give greater
meaning to simple things that friends do
like how a hug becomes arms winding
around necks and waists, heads resting at clavicles and shoulders
and a jostle from a long slumber
every limb and organ awake
sunlight filtering in through drapes, sunlight filtering through the crinkles of your eyes and the gaps in your full toothed grin
how I wrote poetry about the way your hands held mine, with purpose, with a firmness that said to me I love you, I will never leave your side, I will lead you and we will find better things together
how a kiss on the cheek becomes soft lips brushing marred, undeserving skin, and how the realization of “I cannot imagine a life without you” burns and spreads through my veins
at fourteen I knew that the way my eyes met yours across a crowded room was only something that lovers do
or a hopeless girl in love would
and this went beyond the way love was shown in a blur of arms legs and everything in between
I knew that this was a love so true
at fourteen I thought that friends did not hold each other like you held me, did not kiss temples and cheeks and eyelids like your lips brushed mine, did not see through the walls I put up in less favorable company like you tried to
I was only a child and so were you
but just because my love was innocent doesn’t mean it wasn’t true
sometimes children know better
they shake their head because what kind of redemption does a tragic love get
where is the silver lining? where is the optimist’s obtuse take on misery? there is none
and heart break invades every cell of my body the way night creeps-in after sunset
the night is now. the stars are out
a shift in the cosmos, a rearranged universe
a faultline in the canvas of my insignificant life triggered by monumental moments like
the brush of a hand, the laughter I made happen that sounded like bells (even though a little snorty)
and burnt caramel hair falling like a curtain but never quite hiding your face
even if it did I could never forget it
the way purple looks on your skin is prettier than the purples of the sun when it leaves me behind
you are not the one who is unkind, I tell them when they grow bitter at a love that did not end well
a cataclysmic build up of secretive smiles and adolescent confusion
ending up in nothing – anticlimactic
disappointing, no frenzied kissing
no lover’s embrace
no picturesque end screen credits with the uplifting piano ballad, romantic instrumental break
I tell them I am not bitter
how could I be when I realized who I am because of you
what a tragedy that would have been otherwise; I don’t know the earth and the shift in tides and whether there is a force watching over me doing nothing
I don’t know much but I know myself
and I know love
life will come later
I am who I am because of you
life can come later
because I’ve already known what it is like to play with sleep softened fingertips in a too loud, too bright classroom
surrounded by eyes and confused stares that work hard to not trespass boundaries
and ignore what is in plain sight
I know what it feels like to whisper in hushed tones and giggle childishly
I’ve felt longing and the gratification that proceeds it
when I ran to see you even after just barely an hour of separation
surrounded by your friends, shrouded and still there was a small comfort
surrounded by my friends and you made me the sun
the awkwardness I dealt with is part of my being now
but we spent too much time together so maybe it was always you
Brontë was onto something, so were the philosophers
maybe my atoms were closer to yours when the universe was created
maybe our souls are made out of the same soft fabric, well-worn and patchy with time
hanging by a thread that runs through every single fracture in the tapestry of stars you created when you burst into my life like a supernova
how can I be bitter now that I know what love, longing and endearment is?
my hugs last longer now. I smile a bit brighter, I forgot to when you left but you would have hated that
there’s a space for you now where there used to be a chasm in my chest
my mind is still shadowed because the clouds will always follow me around
but I remember you and I were, and that makes the sun shine a little brighter
the clouds will burst, but that comes later
for now I ‘m content with remembering you
in almost every word you said to me
and someday I will forget
but your smile touched me like the winter sun on a cloudless afternoon
(let the clouds clear and feel the mountain breeze, my lovely.)