Moist Anguish

My eyes have witnessed a lot

Of the artistic manipulation of your gestures,

Of the invisible arrows lodged in every nook of my soul—

Your gross indifference, is it?

Of this insomnia from the midnight awakenings

And the day time slumber

Embracing my being in an inexplicable adventure.

My eyes have changed their appearance

In a constant struggle between

Expectations and Acceptance –

These two siblings,

In a mindful game of hopeless pursuit,

A shroud to my being, a Pilgrim on his route,

Succumbs with each breath;

Awaiting yet another hashish of emotions –

A balm to my sorrow, succor to my crumbling spirit.

My eyes have turned weary

With this long wait,

It’s a parched land now – no trickle, no stir!

A mirage for your new ambitions

Most willing to become an oasis again,

Your reflection – true and sincere

Is all I need to behold in the bargain.