I think I’m meant to forget you. We were just kids when we Got close and closer still, But then you moved.

Your house was still close by. It’s still there. I could just Come to see you, but when? There’s not enough time.

I’m too busy writing and reading And doing schoolwork and crying, And you’re too busy with revision  And going on cruises with boys.

We’re from different classes, Like at different schools, Like at different echelons. I’m not good enough for you.

But we’re trying so hard  Not to forget eachother, Clinging to short conversations  Between the countries you’re at.

Please keep trying so maybe  Some day I’ll see your face In your room across from me Again and not from your profile.

I miss the way your embrace felt And the way your voice sounds  Because when we talk all I hear is The machine saying it to me.

Do you think God listens to machines? It’s a line from a novel but it’s true, Because does he hear when your  Words aren’t from your divine voice?

Kashmiri Muslims pray in the garden of a house while celebrating Eid Al Fitr in Kashmir. 2020.