Image by Nick Dunlop
it only felt like yesterday when we were huddling under the citrus lights
every shallow promise disappearing
when the monsoon rain kissed our pale bodies
you let me read your mind that day
and every vacant space had a meaning that moment
how could i ever rob you of this cloying life?
when i am the runaway bride, frost sun-dancing on my feet
with all our transient touches etched in the back of my head
you grow older in boston now
but every summer, the lines on your forehead reverses back
when you return to your mother’s nest
hoping the city of river could wash all your sins away
with every soft ebb and flow
tell me you’ll remember my name
Nashitah Noorayn Chowdhury is a Bnagladeshi-Canadian writer. Exploring themes of identity and belonging, her prose and poetry spring from introspective musings at dawn and the echoes of distant memories. She can be reached at @nashitahnoorayn on Instagram.