Waiting On a Dead Lover
Hundreds of nights my dream is the same;
You and I, hands entwined in silhouette at sunset,
You and I, our footsteps side by side on the sand at sunrise,
You and I, our hair in the breeze and our touch at midnight,
Hundreds of nights my dream is the same;
You at my door, in the form of letters that beg for my forgiveness,
You at my door, wet hair covering your eyes, rain and teardrops falling on your face,
You at my door, hands reaching out with your lips muttering, “It’s alright now.”
Hundreds of nights my dream is the same;
You and I in the hardest windstorm, standing,
You and I in the wildest twister, thriving,
You and I in the roughest rainstorm, surviving,
Hundreds of nights it’s been;
Tonight my mind delivers another impossibility to my dream,
Tonight my heart paints another scenery that will never be,
Tonight is going to be another night,
Adding to hundreds of nights I’ve lived and grieved
your name etched in my heart as deep as the one on the headstone,
Adding to hundreds of nights of waiting and mourning
for somebody whose voice and face tattooed in my reveries,
Even ten years later and more,
I can still cry for you,
If this is love,
How could one still want to love another
when they’ve lost the other?
Muthia Huda 2022
