There is a freckle
Who is quite close to my heart.
A small thing, unseen by many.
Shrouded in mystery, sometimes in modesty.
Not much to say, not enough to see.
A little pale, a little red–
A weak stop sign for the rest of the world.
Not as red as he is green
He won’t go, won’t fade away
Tells me he is unfazed by the hint
Of smile lines in the corners of my eyes.
He tells me
He’s a world unto himself and I–
And what am I supposed to be?
His Moon? His Sun? His heavenly body?
An asteroid hurtling towards his open arms?
And the words stuck in my throat
Are ones of sedition and indifference.
I do not feel much nowadays.
He can leave, he can stay. Try as I may,
I cannot summon the courage to say this to him.
And so, for now, he stays.
There is a freckle
Who is quite close to my heart.
He won’t go, won’t fade away
Tells me he is unfazed by my cutting bluntness.
Slowly, slowly syncing to my heartbeats and my ways.
And slowly, slowly I begin to hope he stays.
©Shweta Bhat
Photo by Sinitta Leunen on Unsplash
Shweta Bhat Poetry 