The Wait For Love

The walls of the house still smelled of new paint

The wait to smell of the sweat of intense love had been in vain.

The mirror stood brand new, reflection-less

The wait to conjure up images of beauty, stripped to the truest, had been in vain.

The bed rested calmly, the pillows solemnly

The wait to go naked witnessing wild passion, 

Not just during the moonlit hours, had been in vain.

The kitchenware lay assembled on the shelves quietly

The wait to swallow salt, sugar and secret kisses had been in vain.

The geyser hung hopelessly

The wait to be ashamed by the more powerful steam of united bodies had been in vain.

The tube lights and the bulbs vanished into the walls, dejected

The wait to remain constantly switched off with darkness preferred over light,

In search of meaning, in search of life, had been in vain...

The only survivor of all such pain had been the new car

It had waited to be fueled by reckless romance

And it had been, by the newly married couple

The only sad part of its story - It currently lay crushed under the wheels of a container lorry...