I wonder if my last words would include your name,
the two syllables worn in the years of saying
Or if you would find mine in the footnotes
of some history you are still composing
Are we the astrologers of our doom,
reading in each other’s voice
the slow approach of the end we have named,
anticipating future hurt, dreaming future scenarios?
I remember your arms
not the length of them, but the feeling,
the way the world became
a thing that could sustain itself,
needing nothing beyond that radius
I remember your eyes
and how they arrest me
the way fire consumes what it holds
consuming, eternal, still
I remember our hands,
the destiny written in their joining,
the future neither of us
had the courage yet to read in our lines
And now I find myself
at the edge of forgetting
not all at once, but slowly,
the way a book begins to rust words
left too long in the light
So I try to remember
not because memory is enough
But because trying and waiting
is the only tenderness I am allowed to give
NaPoWriMo Day 9 prompt – I wonder if my last words would include your name by @versesfromvi. Didn’t follow NaPoWrimo website’s prompt as I’ve already written a poem from an animal’s perspective on day 5. You can read it here – A Report to My Colony
Smoke words every day. 
8 responses to “[574] Astrologers of Our Doom”
You are a hopeless romantic 🥰🤣
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Haha so I am :p
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This is a quietly devastating poem—every line lands with the weight of something both held and let go. The way you move between intimacy and distance (“two syllables worn in the years of saying” / “footnotes of some history you are still composing”) is masterful. I especially love the astrologers of our doom: how we learn to read disaster in the very voices we love. And that closing turn—trying and waiting as the only tenderness allowed—is going to stay with me for a long time. Thank you for writing this, Rahul 🤝
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Thank you for recognising what I attempted. So glad the last lines have that impact.
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This feels like remembering something you’re not ready to lose, even while it’s already fading. The way you hold onto small details makes the ache quieter, but deeper.
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Thank you so much Anushree!
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The only constant in life is change; embracing it with acceptance, the only solution…; -)
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true that!
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