Sai Matekar is a poet from India. She's inspired by the ideas of destiny and all the underwhelming components of nature. She is inspired by romance and magical realism, while her writing is influenced by other writers such as Haruki Murakami, Khalid Hussaini, Pablo Neruda and William Wordsworth.
I held your hand in narrow alleys,
Of murmuring windows,
That I saw in paintings,
And in busy cities,
That I've never been to.
I only know their names,
I kissed you,
On a strange street,
Under the stars, from a different time.
And you tasted,
Like the liquor,
I had never drunk,
And the cigarette,
I had never smoked.
Your hair was like the wind,
That never touched my cheek,
And your breath smelled like,
All the books left to read.
Your smile opened like,
All the skies I planned to see,
I danced with you,
On sea shores whose sand,
Awaits our touch.
Your sigh smelled like the rain,
That still sleeps, blanketed by the clouds,
Your embrace felt like
The place I will call home.
I have always dreamt of you in faraway, dreams, I have always missed you,
As if we had lived in some other time,
And that time ended.
But what lingers on like a catchy tune,
Is the feel of me and you,
And I wonder when we meet,
Will you have missed me too?
A Letter to Me
You look like your ancestor,
Like a lady, you have never met,
And when you look in the mirror,
There are thousands of generations behind, And a great thousand ahead.
You are just a dot in the line,
Or a drop in the sea,
Or a star in the sky,
You posses the wisdom of the old,
And the dreams of the young,
But you are beautiful,
Because you live poetry,
And inhale words,
And sing songs,
And run under the sun,
with the wind on your face,
And flowers tucked in your hair.
You learn maths,
To understand the language of the stars,
And learn to smile,
To understand the girl who stole your heart. You walk on isolated streets in the day,
And Dingy, crowded streets at night,
And your fingers brush,
Just a feather light touch.
A blush creeps up, like the dawn sun,
At that moment you understand the stars,
You are thankful for being who you are,
You thank the generations ahead,
And generations past,
But you don't care what they did,
As long as you are, the piece of that time of art.