When I miss you

Even with eyes closed
you are there
you don’t leave me
the cold moon of Delhi
which breaks into my house 
and steals my night

I open my hands: empty, empty. 
This sorrow is very old. When will you come home?
I ask
then ask again

The ocean moves into the cellphone 
I ask, ‘How is your health now?’ 
The line goes dead
The waters leave the cellphone

The ocean is quiet
and over it the cold
full moon of Delhi.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.