Miss you.

Missing you is a thing.

From the unknown recesses of my heart reaching just the corner of my eyes.

You are my meditation.

Watching you breathe can calm my heart.

I am jealous of your work because it gets priority over me.

Your work does not pursue you, yet it’s your mistress.

It slowly chips away, the flesh off your body till it makes your eyes hollow. With dark circles that could put kohl to shame.

Yet, it could not touch the spark in your eyes. The eyes which never fail to bewitch me.

Spring will come.