You have become a white moon for me;
no exchange of words,
no barter of emotions.
Entire night hours I look at you
and you look at me
(or may not be)
If I tell you something,
you will not understand.
You will give a damn or simply a deaf ear
or you fidget with your colorful bangles
and those dangling earrings.
I know, you will lower your eyes
and simply pretend of not knowing even a bit of it.
The clock will tick-tock and time takes wing
Clocks are mercilessly right;
Time eats everything, distorts everything,
but never quenches the thirst,
never answers the questions.
Questions that I had to ask you,
Questions that you were answerable to.
(or may not be)
Do you expect me to keep speaking to
the moon, the stars, the trees, and the rivers?
Their eternal silence despises me now.
Silence is sometimes mundane and boring.
Would leaving everything behind an apt answer
It will not be a solace to the erupting volcanoes of heart
The question would remain unanswered
to whoever survives last
(or may not be)