Monday, January 19, 2015

but then



but then,
she was supposed to be the one to hold it all back
and he was supposed to pour it out
for words that remained unspoken
for glances that remained unstolen
for skin tissues that remained untouched
for love that remained ungrew

but still,
she continues to keep him close
and no love but he continues to send his bests, his smilies and his typos
he continues to haunt her dreams
she continues to chase a mirage wrapped in flesh

and a wild imagination of an unparalleled universe
where number of bohemian coffee shops will surpass the number of cars and crowd on roads
where he attracts unusual weather and keeps her tongue busy
some days, he plays cupid
and some days, turns into a stone that smashes windows and breaks hearts
some days, his eyes flirt
some days, his whole being is just a smile so broad that makes his face wrinkled
some days, he is a secret lover
and on a night like this, he irons out her cold palms and whispers that maybe that's the way he prefers
it was one of the those nights
and it was his palm against her trembling feminine fingers

on nights like this, she wonders
if  she(they) has lost her (their) only chance to be mad at each other, to disappoint one another
coz the clock has long-ticked and gone
and the sand from hourglass has slipped
now her face has turned into what defines obvious
and when the big wheel will start to spin
there will be nothing
but pesky rumors and nasty smirks
and a question that why didn’t it happened
what was there to reason
to them, then she asks
given a chance what would they have preferred
a love affair
or an affair worth longing?