I'll wait in patience,
Until I see your face,
Until the next time I see you smile.
But I won't rush it
The way I feel.
I love the anticipation,
The way you give me things
To think about.

I'll learn to live through the ache,
I'll learn self-control,
And learn to hold still
Until the next time I see you.
The best stories are told
In pieces.
Not that there's anything wrong
With instant gratification,
Nonetheless,
Waiting allows that time between us
To linger and to grow.

So that the next time I see your face,
I am fully there,
Appreciative of that moment
A kiss that waits in the dark,
Waiting for the light of your lips.
Knowing that a week apart,
This kiss only grows,
Stretched thin, built in
Anticipation.

But I won't rush it.
Every episode is like this,
My favorite show.
If I were to watch all of you now,
Then there wouldn't be anything left.
So I choose to be patient,
My attention solely focused
On you.
Love moves slow,
Although some moments
Move fast.
There is always time to rewatch
And to think
But only after we've taken our time
And lived to do so.
I'll wait patiently
Until the next time I see your face

Here we are
One and done
A love gone astray

Feeling used
A bit confused
As trash just thrown away

Perhaps one day
You'll realize
The value of what you had

A loving friend
A romantic end
Something not so bad

Life will go by
The tears will dry
A love pulled apart

Put up your walls
Watch us fall
You'll always have my heart

Here we are
One and done
As once again you leave

Feeling used
A bit confused
What exactly did this achieve?

A payphone,
Paid for with time and energy
All my change I spend on you
Released from the caller's heart
An already safed contact,
Feeling like an anonymous number,
Ignored like spammers
"Call me back" left on voicemail
Hanging loose from the box
Still waiting-
more days to come

i wait for daybreak —
shed embers of disquiet;
my spirit rages.

patiently, i wait -
my legs crossed,
and my heart too.
much time has passed
since the inevitable happened,
and yet, the light of a clement morn
never fails to justify the agony
of dying stars in the night sky;
or the ones too dead for even the
darkness that consumed them.
the heavens dispatch their
messenger birds to nook the
wisdom into the branches
of trees whose roots have shrewd
under the weight of logs that
outline their ascent.
such trees call upon the sages
to enlighten them,
and to warn them -
for they know too well how the
message might confound in the grips
of those who practise hedonism.
perhaps, the light has always been
too blinding for mortal eyes.

the flowers bloom all the same;
the winds usher the fragrant truth -
slowly, but surely;
and i lie in hope for the
rancid thoughts to inevitably
take on new meanings…

patiently.

It is a fair assumption
To believe that truth is habitually withheld,
In the daily routine of "inconsequential,
Miniscule" white lies.
As in larger defeats
Where the sting of humility or embarrassment linger,
In plans gone awry.
To understand this is not to condone this,
But never to engage in it.
To do so any different
Would only prove otherwise.

It’s strange.
Lilies still in the wind.

An extraordinary wind at that.
Wind with a purpose so impertinent
It became love.

If you didn’t know any better,
You might name it something sweeter:
Abhorrence.

Your eyes sharp
And soft with desperation
Look at me for answers.

I’ve never seen anything quite like it
I marvel and speculate alongside you
We fall into a steady and cyclical dissonance
Are the lilies still anymore?

Yes, the sky is still blue. The grass,
Green.
It’s rather lovely.

I feel a tug. A pull.
With ease I lean into its plea
Spilling into silence,
I am gone.

You are here alone.
Delicately gilded, you are safe.

The lilies still in the wind.
Utterly strange.

"कहती हो हर मुलाकात पर, गर्व है तुम पर,
करते रहो कोशिश, लेते रहो नन्हे कदम।
ज़िन्दगी बड़ी सुहानी है, खुल के जियो हर पल,
आने वाला कल क्या होगा, ये किसने जाना ?
तो छोड़ो बीते पचड़े, कल की चिंता,
और चल पड़ो, सब्र का हाथ थामे अपनी राह पर।"