Thursday, 25 April 2013


You haven’t turned up. The buffer zone
of anticipation already ruined.
I keep my fingers steady on the stems
my lips serene, breath behind voice, eyes fringed
with the twinkling antonyms of forlorn
just on the off chance that you’ll come.
Faces have poked around, come and gone,
a thousand pairs of feet filed past, inch
by inch, but yours weren’t amongst them.
I draw my self around myself, alone
like the eye wraps itself in stormy winds
and unruffled, calmly carries on;
like the foetus curls into its amnion;
and the wound wreathes the pain into poems.



  1. WOW NB, how beautifully you have written and expressed about "Wait".
    Cant tell you how much I remembered all those people for whom I did wait like this!

    1. Just a more polite way to say - "wait till I get my hands on you boss and see what I do!!" :D

  2. The injury of being stood up! Been there, it's horrible, especially when you don't want to stop waiting because then the truth really hits!

    Lovely, but sad!

    1. Ya, sad is always a little bit more convincing, more real than happy.