talk to you-
I fill stardust in
the gaps left by the
stars that died.
and you wink.
I make crafts out
of clouds, and
it rains rhyming
your shape.
I whisper your name
to the sparrows,
and their songs feel
personal now.
I trace your silence
on window fog,
watch it fade into
a fragrance-
It reminds me of a
place only we know.
The days I don’t
talk to you- the sun
looks overworked.
the day turns dull
and by night-
on the ripples of
my sleep, I write
your name with the
Moonlight-
and when I fold my
loneliness into
paper boats of memory,
to let them drift
towards your dreams-
only if you could look
at the sky once-
You’d know that
distance is just a
polite word misplaced
for devotion, and silence,
a language we both
still speak.
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