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When someone leaves,
they leave neither their footprints
nor the voids felt by long bearded poets.
It isn't their absence that bothers us
but the air that fills itself
and makes itself home
in the places where they sat and slept.
That air is what we despise.

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Your absence no longer scares me dear friend.
My growing immunity to it, does.

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Slowly but gradually,

Your absence
Stopped bothering the peace within me.

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The way
you exist in my words
makes your absence
imaginary.

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Your absence comforts me more than your presence

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I doubt
Are those words
eating me!?
For the reason
Now it Seems like
I'm seeking for those
Some days went on
Writing the story
Of Grapevine
Without Grapes!
Rest Of The Days
I Dreamed!Dreamed
& Dreamed!
Recollecting Actual
Imageries,
To Draw The Real
Picture Of Love!
Though,Love Is Absent
Still,Trying To Sing
Incomplete Notes
For Listening,
You're not here
But I Can't Stop Myself
From Singing
My Love For Silence
In Letters!

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