An ode to the nights
that I spent waiting for you.
An apology to the frost
in my throat caught resting
on your cold shoulder.
A rue to the hooks on my lips,
the ones you never touched.
An anticipation of the nights I will miss you
and the ones I won’t.
To the minutes I drown and the hours spent
in learning how to float, and to those seconds
I would flap my libs and swim before you
splash in and drag me underwater.
A stone cold silence for when
I sat trying to put makeup on the dead.
To the time bomb attached to my wrist,
the one that convinced me that you are just a muse.
If only you could be just a muse.
The Nights by Taru Gupta is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.