Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Thirsty Pain.


(Shar's terrace, Dec' 2007)


If perhaps the sky was blue and I could see through
All the clouds of gray and black,
I would see you smiling as if the sun were shining.
Maybe, if there had not been rain pelting down onto the pavements,
I would see your tears as salted water
And not as droplets from the sky.
I would have, maybe, perhaps, walked up to you and told you
I care enough to let it go.
But it was raining, and it was cloudy,
And you stood there without moving.
So I walked away,
Without turning around,
Thinking of you as an insensitive person,
Who could not make a sound
To quench my thirsty pain.
Who could not reach out a hand to hold me back
But only watch me retreating in vain.

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