Not So Far Away

The moon is shining at my window tonight

And I know it's shining at yours too because you aren't that far away.

I gaze bedazzled at the celestial while it's fashion replaces your reflection;

Caught in my eyes, the last time I saw your face.

I see you walk out as the moonlight steps inside me to stroke my soul in comfort

I had only found in the love of a stranger astray.

And everytime I blink, a little bit of that comfort escapes me, pinch by pinch, drop by drop;

Slithering cautiously till it elopes out of the window, leaving me estranged.

Oh! Lover of the yesteryear! Behold your lovely self out of your window,

So the comfort in that silver moonlight that has touched my heart 

Shall find it's way to your heart too. 

If not tonight, nonetheless someday.

Still Here

I am still here. Waiting in the dark. The only light guiding me, the amber cindered flicker of your cigar. And the smoke drifting away to mix in the air that you would breathe someday; forming perfectly incomplete circles that I wish to escape from but can't.

The dust of my ashes settling into the atmosphere forming a drunken haze under the blanket of stars that you and I share. And while I wait for you, your thoughts splashing the puddle of my memory forming reflections on the greased palette of my mind. My eyes heavy from the sleepless hollows and my lashes batting in drumrolls evading any hint of peace to seep through while I drift away into an uncomfortable slumber of mixed emotions and desires I could only wish you would honor someday.

I miss you.

The Parallel Universe

It's so much more easier to to talk to you when you are not around. The make belief you is more comforting than your real presence, I suppose. The conversations I have had with you in my head, I would like to see them transpire into the transcendental world - the parallel universe in which we rejoice the requiem of fancy oh so requited and unsolicited together.

I would rather be there. In the electric blue cosmic light where the void between my voice and breath identifies with the one between my thoughts and words; where I can find my song and not be afraid to float it to your ears. With time perhaps but someday nonetheless.

Disappointment and It's Second Cousin

And I saw it again, while it sneaked behind you with a kind of nervous trepidation as if it were afraid to offend those around it. Those stubbed hollows of eyes like it had seen too much in a time too less; weary composure on a pale cracked skin; haggled and shabby, dreary from living a life with no purpose or end. 

I caught it's undefined contours moving in stealth while it's cloak of disturbing shades of black exposed it's thread bare loose ends. They dragged in a lazy conversation with the grim around it. Boneless and frail, it's fingers looked as if they were ripped precariously by a dagger in frantic haste. With a lingering aura of sepulcher, it smelled of death. 

It introduced itself in a murky baritone with a reference from it's second cousin, Hope; the comforting juggernaut of a lady I had run into last night. Dressed in a floral dress of primary hues, she had sung me a lullaby and tucked me into the warm blanket of illusions while the snow glazed winter of Reality froze outside my window. I had felt like an abandoned child who had found the affection of her long lost mother. 

She had sent her condolences through the harbinger. It was a tattered note of anemic yellow with beautiful cursives dancing in tandem with each other. If only the message was that flattering, I wished. The ink was smeared from the sweat of humility of the dark man. I could but only leave the message to my imagination. But the last few words clearly read that she shall visit me again. 

Thirty Seconds

“I’ve been trying today to bring back your face. Most clearly I remember your eyes, with a kind of teasing smile in them, and the feeling of that soft spot just northeast of the corner of your mouth against my lips.”

A month has passed but everyday, since the past three weeks I have been spending eight hours a day to catch a thirty seconds glimpse of you; wishing you would say something to someone and I would get to hear your voice; wondering if you had anything left unsaid to me and hoping that you would say it now.

You leave me with a little of you everytime you pass me by. Sometimes, you smile; sometimes you wink and sometimes you just make a funny face. It might last a moment for you but for me it stays. It stays for the next few hours; lasts while I am on my way back home and barely enough till I put myself to bed with a thought of a better tomorrow. But tomorrow never gets better and now I just do it so that I can take home enough of you along with me to last for the day. 

There are days when I don’t see you at all. On days like these I shut my eyes and though I am almost always unsure of my ability to recall faces, yours just brightens the screen of my retina bringing back tattered bits of memories that I have with you which I have gathered over time. It’s like a collage and I relive each picture, no matter how small or big; and I secretly wish I had danced with you that night while you held me close instead of breaking into fits of crazy laughter to veil my awkwardness. 

I don’t know what I feel for you. If I wouldn’t have known love, I would have thought that I love you. But I don’t. It’s an unfamiliar magnetic force that pulls me and my thoughts towards the farthest stretch of your memory. It’s a feeling of strong emotions mixed with pangs of guilty pleasures; bouts of longing for soft sensual caressing mixed with wild scent of desire and animal passion. And while I desperately crave for your warm breath against my racing heartbeats and for your sweat against mine, those thirty seconds still suffice.

I miss you. I really really do. And irrespective of what logic tells me, I still believe with my entire existence that    you’ll come by and reciprocate instead of merely responding to my feelings in affirmative or otherwise. I know   I told you that I need you. That night I was drunk. But I guess I was right.