PERPETUAL WAIT

It is a cold, cold December night

Quite past the decent hours

Been sitting in an emptying café

You are way past the stipulated time.

I still sit here in one manner, half waiting,

Half treating myself to rare freedom,

To involuntary closing of eyes,

Relishing the caress of tickling, tempting,

Consuming cold breeze on my face

From West perhaps…

Snap! I get back. I see

Random questioning eyes scanning me,

No coffee in hand, no company.

I wait not for meeting you, I wait,

I wait till this saturation prevails

And gives way to an endless abyss.

Do I want that? Or is this better?

This waiting, this freedom to anticipate,

No teetering between Love and Hate…

Having a sure seat, an assured ally of loneliness…

You come, you leave, I am still the same,

Waiting in some place, a dark cold night.

You are periodical, this night for me is forever,

Let me hold it dearest, to the place you desert.

When you are gone for good, when I am with myself,

I shall waltz my way into this inky darkness

To be the mistress of all that I love, all those are mine.

I shall raise a toast to me, to you my beloved, and this night divine…

I said I shall, I would have, but…

How troubling these waters I tread!

I wonder which wrong turn I took and where?

Now I have reached a dead end that is you.

Desperate I want to flee. I know I must go.

But this umbilicus tied to your heart cold

I fear to sever, the mess it would make.

Should I paint my hands in my own blood?

Or would you do the honor with mortal hurt?

All in vain, I know, my life an un-writable slate.

In perpetual anxiety, till date I wait.

Now I even doubt the purpose of this ticking

Is it taking me somewhere? Or just an in-thing?

Ah…there you come now, waving in a non-intense.

Again, it’s me who is late, off-time. An inconvenience.