Layers of Longing

My beating heart is a drum
a thunderous rhythm
reciting an epistle of my grief.
A concoction of
     togetherness & separation.

There are layers of longing;
   of being seen
   and seeing
   of a single touch
   and being touched
   of love
   and being loved.

I swallow nights in counting kisses-
and envelope the remnants,
sitting as wildflowers on my waist. 
A site to behold,
for million nights.
A star to make a wish for eternity,
A church to worship.


By Shreya Sharma

I read poems. Sometimes I write poems. And when I am doing nothing, I am sipping coffee.


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