I looked at her,
her fists to her waist
and a silence for the static posture
that she had.
Maybe it was the waves,
or the voices that they spoke in,
maybe it was the air
that purified every breathe
that we left,
for the crashes and the noise
formed footprints,
marks that had theirown shadows
of light and peace and possession,
places that were made and broken away,
memories that were meant
to be washed under,
for she knew of the mystery
of world and its people,
she knew how fickle everything could be
even when you feel something
so greater than yourself.
The more we wish to hold something,
the greater the push to part away
reasons with us,
and when you find yourself
completely in control,
you realize how easily you were pawned!
And I saw that agony
in the way she looked at the waters
carrying away the loneliness
that she started being pulled into,
and even when there was a hand to grasp,
none felt compelling enough to hold.
Was that the end, she thought!
Is this how love should be,
there were always questions
and answers that faltered all that we dreamt of,
for a reason is never enough,
not to stay,
not to breathe,
but a breath
that lives because you could
and a smile that could make you smile
in every pain.
And in every anger,
there would be that moistness in her
as she keeps looking into the infinite,
hoping for someone she looks for
to come and hold her,
and make her feel
‘not lonely’,
to make us feel loved
in love’s sorrow.