'Hello.'

'Hello.'

It was a question of repetition from the start.
An echo that bounced off the walls
And landed, like a cricket, 
Between us. 

I didn't know they scared you,
But you froze quietly, against the wall
Like you wanted it to drink you in.
So I put the cricket in my palm
And willed it to sing.

It didn't though, until,
I left it by the brink
Of the lake which has drowned a billion things-
Old pennies, notes, water lamps
And other goodbye-shaped things.

When I returned, you were still
Caught in that freeze frame of fear
And you don't know this, but,
Of all the things I carried back from

That night in September-
Your expression is the one I remember.

It was a time for goodbyes.
So we made up some stars for the sky
And when they fizzled out and we
Realized our imprints
Weren't permanent enough,
We sat in a group,
And half-part hugged, half-part cried.

When the time came, we even drowned
Some wishes into the lake-
At least, they did-
We just stared.
Because like we said,
In almost-perfect tandem:
"Leaving something in the lake
Is equivalent to drowning it."

*

It was strange, that night.
We built it up with sand and water
And seashells we sifted through the beach for-
And when that was not enough,
We looked into our eyes
And borrowed a star.

The build up to that moment had been carefully planned-
A month-long prologue to a second-long climax
Of sitting hand-in-hand.
You saw my hand sweating, 
So you held it tight,
As if to tell me the twilight needed nothing more
Than the potential that brimmed
Like water in that lake
Which was fueled by the concept of "Goodbye",
In order to create magic out of nothing
But a wordless night.

*

You are frightened of crickets
But they sang me lullabies
On those lonely nights
When dreams were starry nights
Vanquished by skyscraper lights.
So when I left the cricket 
At the start, that first time,
I whispered to it,
"Goodbye".

*

'It's not working out.'
It was a question of repetition until the very end-
A hello from you
A thought you said
A hand you outstretched,
Which I only ever met
In almost-perfect tandem.

'I don't think it's working out either.'
It was a question of repeption from the start
That chased its tail until it arrived at itself, like
What are you scared of-
Crickets or love?

It was strange, that night.
I could have sworn we'd borrowed stars from our eyes.
But as we stood by the lake,
We only had what the lake had to offer us-
Old pennies, notes, water lamps
And a billion ways of saying
Goodbye.