Desiderans

The downpour seems to have an intimation

Of romance implicit and artless

That has been consistently thriving in her since yesterday

Though it’s only a revival of an existing bondage

Its face felt anew-

And invigorated

May be out of the sensation of being lost-

 And inanimate

By his absence- distance and missing

It may be the lack of ceremony of making him tea

Or simply he is either not there, or not palpable.

It reminds her of a painted figure-in low key

Dissolving into the background

Slipping into abstract

And there is only rain outside

And only rain. 

The Pending

The lost patterns of rumination found itself

Right at the edge of his joyous flood.

It’s been only like bliss interim

Later points razor sharp towards the hollowness.

It’s been like the pressed eraser-

-Waiting to be accelerated

To dwindle the defining lines

Bordering the sane – insane-

That the delicacy of his unresolved pains

Proved by a turbulence least imagined.

And yet

The strangeness of the mind less contemplated

Amidst all accusations and antipathies.