Monday, September 26, 2011

diary of a puzzled romantic-part I

I get these strange dreams these days,
stark, vivid and yet strange
I remember you clearly,
yes, in all of them, closer than usual.

but not me, nowhere as me at least
its like sensing yourself and not being there.

like tiny streams of water trickling down your face or the droplets of sweat over the bridge of your nose.
like those long breaths you draw, and every conscious pause while you speak.

its queer at times, as if I don't know you at all, but feel a pull nevertheless,
no, not a pull really.
you don't experience any kind of pull from your reflection right?
its just something of an unnamed bond,
I stare back at you like your thousand reflections,
fresh cutlery, rear-view of your car, even the kitchen tiles.

all this while , I have this plethora of feelings,
I get judgmental, I reprimand myself, I stalk you, I sulk, I smirk, I never leave,
I indulge in you.
not your sightings, but you
and yet never as me, not as anyone.

you are just as clueless there, but I think you do suspect something
at times when close your eyes and try to listen something amiss in the early-morning sounds,
when the leaves rustle to the tune of an old song,
or so you think.
when the evening breeze hits you square in the face,
 you inhale deep,
that half a grin perfectly in place,
and me resonating in your senses as anticipation,
as longing of the times yet to come.

I long as well,
for that one long breath of yours again
to release me to the autumn sky.

I hold on to you and yet long to fly,
and suddenly you open your eyes,

you leave me there..

1 comment:

  1. wow...i can feel the passion dripping off of your quill.
    amazing
    brian

    ReplyDelete