It is an unknown hour,
I shouldn't be here, but I am
It's probably midnight and she might come.
I chant to myself till my ears are numb.
I know she is fighting with herself,
She wants to do what is right.
I fight such a battle as well, I do so with all my might.
But I guess that both of us very well know,
That apart from each others arms, there's nowhere to go.
And we are very much aware that hope for such resistance is lost .
For I stand here in the middle of where no one knows but God.
Maybe He knows why,
Maybe He orchestrates this delusion,
Maybe He smiles at this like how the moon smiles at me, the love struck fool.
Then it will all make sense,
This feeling that burns are justified.
These were the words I toy myself with,
To convince my mind to come here...
...to see her once again
But did she do same?
Were her burning desires able to be tamed?
Did she choose to be sane?
For my eyes wandering for her are only stung by shadows!
my heart decides to run with the cars that pass by.
But the whole world begins to stop because I finally see her
The void that occupied the distance closes.
As I cage her in my arms
She reciprocated the hunger, like I've been missed for so long
I felt the pride well up my chest to coo her to worry no more.
There I knew ,
She has fought with herself again,
But she chose to be a love struck fool ,like me.
Alas the heart can't bargain to my surprise,
Her voice lingered of honey as she whispered something to my ears,like life .
"I love you " she said
If she was raptured by fear,
She run away... again.
Taking her warmth away,
But her words, her memory and her love remained.
The tall city lights mock me with their hues,
As loneliness ensues.
Another war of the heart,
Another choice to be a fool for love
In the gloomy gaze of the moon,
That held our forbidden meetings approved.
It shatters me for I couldn't confess
I love you.
This unspoken truth with be the death of me.
It would hand me over to my grave,
Yet it would be all so lovely,
For I'd rather die loving her.
Than living without her.
And so...
Until we meet again, my love.
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth
PoetryA man of distress, With eyes denied of sleep at night. Yet his mind wanders dreaming in the day. Such a cycle driven by a deep longing, a hunger, and love for a woman. Hence, a compilation of his persistent and intrusive thoughts of her... His Hira...
