I often miss our communication,
When we would speak so much
That the world would evanesce,
When we would hold each other’s gaze
For so long
It would unveil our longing
To be with each other
So close
That our breaths would mingle
And fail to make out
Yours from mine.
What’s mine is yours,
What’s yours has always been mine,
Why is there a miscommunication?
I miss our time
In the scheme of life,
The map where I would mark
You as home
Seems distant.
When you spew your words,
I gather them all,
So I keep them close
For the next time
You’d be gone,
I tuck them under my bed
Only to pull them out
And weep a little,
Curse the present
Of your absence.
You barely know,
How important it is
To have your words
Linger in my existence.
So rare are times,
When you find time
To commune –
The most blissful part
Of my subsistence.
I know new lives
Often take a toll,
And mess with
Matters of love.
But my love,
Don’t you ever forget!
How dearly I need,
In the bravest of hours,
Your reassuring words
To break every dam of
My oaths of silence
To hold a conversation.