So what happens now?
After the loving in a million ways, that is. Do I wait for you to invent a new reason? Do I go searching for one myself?
Do I stand at one point, waiting for the realisation to dawn yet again that I cannot unchain myself from your arms, that I cannot unlink the thought of you from every thing in sight?
What happens after one loves another? Is this any different from falling in love? Do I acknowledge that I have met you, shared myself, and move on to find another mind to adore? Do I wait till both of us reek of each other? Will I forget what lips taste like?
Does the body burn to ash after this? Will I cease to exist then? Do I consider this a phase, a season that will change but occur again? Are you a habit, the weather, a cycle? Will this happen again?
Will it singe my flesh when we have separated? Will the mornings still have a blinding orange about them? Will the rain be a little less refreshing? Does the rain cease to enchant when you’re gone?
Will your name hurt? Poke me in the eye? Will some blanks on paper still appear to accommodate only your name? Do boards with your name shine brighter since you have disappeared?
Will I forget?
Won’t I forget?
Will tomorrow be just an excuse to exist?