If You Were Here

If you were here,
I'd measure your skin with my fingers,
a little brush across your arm,
to blend myself with you,
in a small, inconspicuous way,
not to wake you,
not to demand your attention,
not to disturb your dreaming,
but simply to stake my claim,
on your next breath and each one after that,
and the words you would speak to me.

If you were here,
I would wrap my thoughts around you,
and take you with me into a world,
that would allow no apologies for needing,
or wanting someone so badly,
that loneliness would press too close,
and leave no room for sleep,
and imagination would become more of a torment than a virtue.
And then the constant whirling of words and images,
from our pasts would be engulfed by our present,
and it would create a future incapable of leaching tears,
from our eyes or to leave us trembling.

If you were here,
I would secure your presence in my blood,
in my bones and in my skin,
in my eyes reflected in the mirror.
Did I dream you into being,
or did my reality seperate,
into this half that is hoping,
and waiting and keeping the faith,
and feeling and cherishing,
a love so beautiful and so strong,
that the blizzards of time,
and the storms of distance,
can do zilch to tear it off its foundation,
of trust and patience?

When you are here,
and we are lost in our days,
we can choose the means of our touch.
Till then, now, in the geography of alone,
all maps point to blind corridors,
narrow with a wanting that accepts no solace,
without the touch that has to wait a while longer,
but will be worth every moment,
and will last forever.

- To Shreya.

3rd January, 2009.

Happy three months anniversary. I wish you were here with me but I am waiting. I love you.