The lament


There're days that one wouldn't want to come by,
to be in
the would'ves and the could'ves recital
the empty gaze, and blank stares at the dark firmament
the periodic through-look at people's faces
the silent screams of the soul
the bouts of emotional catatonia
parched tears that crusted the eyes drowns the heart
a haggle for a one-more-chance
the scent of grief, the sight of loss, the numbing emptiness, the unwanted reunions
the epoch of pining.
Every element is cold, and the only warmth left is but the doted memories of the beloved
there used to be just you and I at nights
now half of me is gone as well
Truly, the only consolation is you
Be here... atleast for now...
...this moment
Be near.

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