My words are waist deep in
the struggle to explain your absence;
I haven’t come least bit close.
I may have, but I’m despondent in the
name of wait and patience:
I wonder if the offer still stands,
a day to Kashmir and back.
Your absence grows upon me
like a day I am too sick to leave,
but I pack my courage and do.
I have fractures in my muscles,
the burden-heavy and constant,
is a reckless abuse of my strength.