A poem about longing

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It has been forty days since I last kissed you, he says

And I sigh on the other side of the line

My lips tremble as I ask him, when will I see you again?

We’re both afraid of the answer

But he says soon and then the line goes quiet

It is one of those nights

Where I feel like we’ll break open like colorful beads on the floor

Spill into a kaleidoscopic pattern

Never to be whole again

He tells me we’ll be fine

I repeat it with him, We’ll be fine

Fear gets to me, when I cannot recall the way he smelled

Or the way his hands fit into mine

He is hopeful

Hopeful for a future where we conquer the world

I wish my heart wasn’t in doubt

“You don’t love me, do you?” it is the fifth time I’ve heard him say this

I say I do, but it’s a complicated form of love

1427.0 kilometers lay stretched between us

Approximately 886.6967 miles

I’ve mapped the distance out like veins in my body

He assures me, at least we’re under the same moon

We look at the same sun

For my fragile little heart this is consoling

I can always look at the sky

But for how long can the clouds form his face until they disappear

The last time I saw him

I went straight into his arms

It was the most natural thing to do

He gets angry at times because I test his patience

Distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder

It makes the heart grow cold and restless

His conversations are laced with I love yous

I tell him that I know and that I miss him

He talks about how he’ll see me in a couple of months

Till then I just look at the rose he bought me on our very first date

That rose has shriveled up in the corner of the closet

Sometimes I think my heart is doing the same

But it reminds me of how once we we’re together

Happy, content and found bliss in the little corner of the world

When things get out of control

I hush my tone because maybe, my silence would not let things fall apart

I haven’t written love poems in a while

Frankly because, I can’t lie to myself through poetry and assure my soul that it will be alright

People ask me, how can I hold onto this long stretch for the past two and a half years?

And I reply, there are people with miles stretched between them but their souls are one

Then there are people who sleep in the same bed but a thousand miles stretch between their souls

How can I let my north star not guide me home?

So as I sit here to write a love poem to my lover who is miles apart

All that comes out is the longing that I have for him

Lingered with hope and strength on how I’ll try to make this one last

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About Bano

I’m trying to find a better introduction but since, I can’t? Hi! I’m Sheher Bano Zafar and I write. I write not because there lies aspiration to be a writer someday but because, it keeps me sane. I love the color silver, black and grey. I also realize that they fall under the same color tone. Whatever, I write is a result of my 3 a.m blues or insomniac depressive tendencies. I can’t write during the day. I’m addicted to caffeine and well, anything and everything (if I like it). Also, I suck at conversations. I bite my nails. Most of the time I’m clueless about the world around me. I love politics and youth activism. People tell me that art and politics don’t belong in the same mind, but I’m passionate about both. One day I might be drawing on a canvas or writing a story and the very next day I will be heading off to attend a summit on the role of youth at the United Nations. I have multiple people trapped in the same body. Each side does try to express itself, in minimal ways if not fully. I’m currently going through a rough patch in life. I guess, I’m adjusting to the world through multiple perceptions. I absolutely love talking to myself because an expert opinion is always required. Most of the time, I just play scenarios in my mind that would never happen. I’m very contradictory in my thought process and actions but it is okay, people get to be what they want to be as long as no other soul is hurt. Peace out!

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