Poetry || Andante by Trivarna Hariharan
1. We don’t talk to each from across the room.
you call it a habit but I don’t think it’s that.
2. You had once insisted we did away with the barricades that partitioned the room into two.
There are none now.
But we feel claustrophobic, still.
3. The silent metronomes of our hearts sound familiar.
Perhaps it’s raining outside.
4. I open the windows to let the breeze pour in.
I can’t hear you over the phone. You’re talking too loud.
5. Silence subsides, but only outside. The breeze has turned into a wind.
Art: Nini Kvaratskhelia