A Diary of Longing
- Hashtag Kalakar
- 2 hours ago
- 2 min read
By Roshan Tara
The spaces are empty,
cracks opened wide,
silent hollows locked in pain
unspoken, unheard words drift back to me,
explained only in these sad whispers
that find no listener but my own shadow.
My heart echoes
in the hollow of your absence;
your shadow lingers
where my soul still seeks you.
I ache for the warmth of your nearness,
the gentle anchor of your voice
that once tied me to the earth.
I am reminded of your presence
day in and day out,
dusk until dawn
yet your long-awaited absence
forever haunts the marrow of my soul.
And though I’ve always been bad at maths,
I count the seconds, restless and raw,
till our paths might collide again.
Each tick of the clock
is another wound that will not close.
My soul waits, aching still,
for the return of your presence,
while I sit captive among memories:
years bound and sealed
within the cold depths
of the four walls in my mind.
Days turn into weeks,
weeks into months,
months into years…
and year after year,
the hollow carved in my heart
still glows warm
with the embers of your presence once lived.
Each breath I draw
is scented with you;
every taste recalls
the sweetness of your lips.
My hands reach forward,
but there are no hands to hold
only silence greets me,
and my heart cries your name
into a world deaf to longing.
Memories of you loop endlessly
each replay spills the same emotions,
yet with every surge,
I feel both everything and nothing,
a storm that leaves me strangely empty,
like a sea that keeps returning to shore
but never rests.
Perhaps it is a sight of you I live for,
a single glimpse to soothe the ache inside
a diary that writes itself nightly
in ink made of tears and desire,
a testament to a love
that dares not fade.
And so I write,
line after line,
hoping that somewhere,
somehow,
you feel this ache across the distance
that you know
you were, and are,
the unwritten ending of every sentence,
the unwaking dream,
the name my heart will never stop whispering.
By Roshan Tara

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