Almost Something Beautiful

By Prasheel Mathray

What were we? 

When you dozed on my shoulder while everyone else stirred, 

When your fingers played with my hair in a room full of others, 

When you held my hand for hours - hours that felt like home, 

When you pinched my cheeks and called me cute while everyone else looked away, When you called without words and we traded silent gazes for hours, 

When jealousy flared if I spoke to another girl and you tugged my hair, 

When you ranted about boards while I was still learning rational numbers, 

When we said too-soon goodbyes and 

tried to name what we were- 

Almost something beautiful. 

Echoes 

What were we? 

I still feel the weight of that whole world on these shoulders; 

I still grow my hair because you once said you liked it. 

I still feel the memory of your small palm in mine, 

I still remember the first time you called me "cute." 

I still replay the phone calls, the pretty eyes, the petty lies, the unreasonable smiles. 

I still hear your melancholic voice — not the rants - and I was terribly lost in your 

eyes. 

I have no answer for what we were: A seven-day trial of unconditional love stretched into two years, 

Echoes that went unheard. 

Remorse 

What were we? 

I should've told you you were my world. I should've let you play with my hair a little longer. 

I should've held your hand tighter, never letting go. 

I should've pinched your cheeks, just once. I should've called you mine. 

I should've listened to your rants - maybe then you would've stayed. 

So I'll call it nothing more than something beautiful 

that wandered into my life, 

and left me changed - yet full of remorse. 

By Prasheel Mathray