Your Indifference

If you could touch my body

and feel the stillness of my night,

the difficult silence between us,

the trapped fragrance of tube-rose

kept inside my closed poetry book

over my unfinished poem,

the climbers would grow in my heart

to reach up to the mouth

and be flowered over my tongue.

If my feelings do not knock at your heart,

our paths would also not cross each other for sure.

I would not look at that moon or tuberoses anymore.

The days am spending disregarded shall make my final hours

more potent than my willingness to live.

That day would not be far when I have to spread my hands

for every thread of breath inhaled and exhaled.

When I die, dare you cry for me

as that was my part of destiny

and shall end with my last journey.

You are fated to be happy like the raindrops

that get separated from the cloud

rush to meet the thirsty land,

Like the newfound freedom of some caged birds

not willing to touch the ground.

Listen, would you keep my final request!

You lock your lips to my lips

before they place my body on the pyre,

before the fire eats my body part by part,

before the love in my heart and eyes get charred to ash.

That day I know you will taste the sweetness

of the fruits dangling on the climbers

grown in my heart and ripened on my tongue.