1. If I met you, Royina,
Would you give me a reason
To walk on dried grass today?
2. I wish
The sun was a little warmer
And paper dry. I wish
There was still a sour taste
To the air when it blew.
Royina, I wish your kohl smudged a little.
And looked like birds, whose wings
Were ruffled from too much
3. Royina, I wish to tell you,
I had loved once.
But she had a desert in her,
And she loved to graze the rains.
My heart had forests in its fangs,
I waited for the rains, to run barefoot.
My roots never grew in her sand,
Her leaves withered
And we were left with
A sanctuary that could have been, but never was.
4. I want to hear your smile, Royina.
I want to hear what it feels like
On skin-tight denim pants.
I want to see how they drip
When I tell you,
You can be anyone you want to be.
5. Wait by the door, Royina,
Or wait by the phone tonight.
I’ll slip my voice in your brown mailbox,
To pick up, with the next morning breeze.
Born in 1993, Nilesh Mondal has lived most of his life in the small town of Asansol. An undergraduate in engineering by choice, he stumbled onto poetry by chance. His works have been published in various magazines and e-journals like The Bombay Review, Café Dissensus, Muse India, Inklette, Kitaab, Coldnoon Travel Poetics, etc.
He currently works as a writer for Terribly Tiny Tales and Thought Catalog, as prose editor for Moledro Magazine, and as an intern at Inklette. His first book of poetry, Degrees of Separation (Writers Workshop), is scheduled for release in 2017.