An upcoming dawn

And I see you sleep
Curled up, in blissful oblivion
Your lips parted and hands clutched
Innocence radiates
Like that of a new born.

Sunrays begin playing peeping toms

I raise my eyebrows in retort
The day had returned too soon.

Heaving; your breath in unison

Next to you, almost tepid, I lay
Closing my eyes
Wanting to breathe you
In a million tiny ways

Eyes open to the illumination of the day
My crumpled bedsheets lie calid
Smelling of you in your last night’s stay

I long to see
Your laundry in the basket
Tangled in sleeves and collars
Waiting to dry in the sun

I long to hear you
Calling my name
Moving my mind
Making me sway

I long to see us
Living through miracles, real and profound
Stepping into realms
That love has hardly known

I want to feel you
Through your sad eyes
Dissolving your fears
And making you smile

I long for you to hold my hand
While I hold onto yours
Walking through the tangible reminders
That add wind to our existence

And if I bruise you somewhere in the meanwhile
Cradle me into your arms
Like the skies and the oceans
Engulf me
In the vast. The deep
The limitless. That blue.
Which is you

But for now,

I ask you to touch me
To press my flowing words into poems and pages
For somewhere between these white thin lines
I am already choosing your place of stay.


One Comment on “Yearning..

  1. i just love how seemingly candid and relentlessly brutal this is; there is absolutely no shrouding of the ‘expression’ inside metaphors or any hiding behind smileys, superficiality or similar post-modern exit routes. This is right in between a brazen war-cry and a child’s confession, and the piece’s vulnerability is its biggest audacity. ‘Yearning’ just the kind of prose-poetry I read, love and champion. Right from the start: lying curled up under quilts, position: foetal, embryonic, deep in love, as the lambent dawning light shadowboxes the face, through the parts about the rumpled, ravaged sheets, sad eyes and cradled arms and then right till the surreal, maudlin end, this is a significant tour-de-force. There’ll be a little getting over to do now.

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