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Longing

Longing





I moved my hand to caress your coral cheeks,

But there was a thing separating.

I wanted to touch your forehead filled with lines, with these parched lips,

But there was a thing separating.

I often wondered, aloud too sometimes,

Whether I would hear your voice again.

The one that doesn't have that tinge of artificiality.

The one that is, filled with your own originality.

I also questioned, this too often,

Whether your face will always be a bit blurred.

Will I be able to see the differences in the small details of it?

Will I ever be able to see that twinkle in those lazy brown eyes

It gets dull, you know, with this thing separating us.

-Amanah Shaikh 

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