Something about the cold bringing about sobriety in thoughts
the tingling, lingering warmth of alcohol down the throat had on motorcycles leading to muddy thoughts, muddy puddles and muddier boots,
little ones huddled under their toadstools.
Misty air from the smoke or warm breaths,
the pale yellow light having a truce with the shadows,
for trysts in alleys or exchanges of longing from windows.
Petrichor doesn’t waft through the air here,
burning meat and caramel and coffee;
savory, sweet and smothering scents.
The streets are silent as the graves
yet are haunted by pleasantries and laughs and giggles and tears
and smell of youth instead of the rot;
a long, circuitous path leading to everywhere and absolutely nowhere.
About the Author:
Hrishita Gulumkar is a poet and an essayist who likes to write about nature and not just nature in a literal sense but also the nature of things. The inspiration for her writings is usually drawn from books, movies, and music and she likes to follow a descriptive style of writing to expound on the various themes that she comes across in different media. This also includes developing her writing style in terms of political and societal issues. Currently, she is a third year computer science engineering student with a keenness for statistics and data science.
Instagram: notstrongenoughtobeyourmayn
The Hemlock Journal 
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