’TIL DEATH DO US PART!

To dearest (would-be) husband:

As I wistfully move my fingers,
Over the soft lips in your photograph,
That I affectionately hold in my hand,
Which I took when I bid thee adieu,
At that bus station — teary-eyed —
Lips — that have uttered a thousand,
‘I love yous’ in my dreams to me,
In a million different ways and more!
Dreams — which have no one but you,
That well up my eyes with sweet tears,
Eyes — that seek redemption from the pain,
Of this distance betwixt us that ever,
So slightly is balmed by those words,
Words — that we exchange over phone,
But ephemeral remedy they are that,
quench not this thirst by drinking more!
Thoughts of you fill up my mind,
I seek everywhere of your kind!

My love for you, no container can hold,
It overflows to the brim and still yet more!
So, come hold me firmly as you own my soul,
And hug me — kiss me — make me whole!

I love you! I love you! I love you!
From the bottom of my heart!
I want to melt in your arms,
‘Til Death do us part!

— Your (would-be) beloved wife

— Jatinder Singh , the lousy poet

© Written 27-Nov-2017