By Sanjhee Gianchandani
The two street lights outside
form a chiaroscuro in disdain
revealing only half their light
through the half-drawn curtains
Half raindrops on the window pane
form misbegotten semi-circles
The door is ajar, yet half closed
selectively unwrapping
the proceedings outside
The coffee mug is half-empty
I always liked it lukewarm
They desk’s half-cluttered side
has a book; half-read and
dog-eared like it’s been wanting
a reader for a longish time now
Parched pages and a half-faint
fragrance of time-worn books
the other half of books unread
A half-broken photo frame peeks
from a half-open drawer
Were we full couple? Or half in love?
A half-written note in scarlet ink
Lines with half-eaten words
perhaps written in a hurry
unfinished and unsigned
Shall remain a mystery maybe
A box of pills half consumed
and half scattered on the floor
A life full of promises half fulfilled
dreams half seen; secrets half kept
poems half written and words half said
Two halves complete the picture
Did I cross stormy oceans for you
only to get this knee-deep love?
A life half-lived; a death half-mourned
Write of halves when you
write off my whole.
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Sanjhee Gianchandani holds a Masters’ degree in English from Lady Shri Ram College for Women and a CELTA from the University of Cambridge. She worked as an English language assessment specialist. Her love for publishing brought her to her second job as an ELT editor in the K-8 space. She compulsively writes poetry to fill in the interstices in her day and to streamline the chaos in her head. Her poems have been published at several places including eFiction India, LiveWire, Setu, Indian Ruminations, Otherwise Engaged Journal and Poetry Northern Ireland.
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