Heart to Heart
What is the point of life
if you are
not spending it with
someone you love?
My heart is a chaste book
of blank pages.
I write only in pencil and
then erase it,
forgetting that love is the
softest beast
that can be mislaid.
Love eludes me like a
mirage:
You are not here. You are
not there.
The bed is empty,
the sheets cold as an ocean
floor
where phosphorescent
creatures glow.
Without you, who am I?
A liar who has said the
truth too many times?
What was my life lik before
we met?
I was asleep but now I wake
to our shared dream:
My heart beating inside
your chest,
AKSHR
H
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