Monday, March 19, 2012

absence

My thoughts scintillate below the raging summer sun—they are minuscule, a flash disappearing in jagged lines. They are of you and to you they are nothing. A longing, I confess, an accidental longing, a mere coincidence of the flesh, a fragile presence. Directionless. I sit and converse with absence.

2 comments:

  1. I can so relate to this.
    Especially 'They are of you and to you they are nothing.'

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  2. Thanks for the comment, Ovais.
    Just a line from the story of our lives. (:

    ReplyDelete