An elegy for a not-yet-dead-love | Lakshmi Chithra

When your love has lived long enough,
You have to check for signals to confirm it’s alive.
A caress, the normal pulse.
a hug, the rhythmic breath.
A very rare act of love-making, the zig-zag lifelines on a medical screen.
You no longer notice it like before.
The smell on the bedspreads is of the conditioner,
The hairs in the drain are inconveniences,
The other cup of tea you brew, a habit.
You have to keep checking for the signs.
Every time a signal fails, you wait for its death.
But like an old woman who drinks and smokes and eats pastries,
It comes back to life, with the weakest sign of life.
On lonely nights, you can hear its wheezing.
Some days you are so sure it has died
that you are scared to check for signs.
Slowly, you forget the presence of a dying love.
You stop tending to it.
Maybe one day, it will just vanish,
Like some things lost forever but never missed.
Maybe, one day, it will wait for you in youthful bounty
after you return home after a walk.
But now, it is just a beep, a presence of the past.