Wither

 I shore up no stories

To share when I see you

Why, why bother

You have burdens of your own

And no time

Or the inclinations

To listen to mine

I am determined to be content 

With the merely banal

Did you sleep well?

Is the weather too cold for you?

I say nothing

When you disappear

Into worlds of your own

Just at the moment

When I wish

For a kind word

Or a warm touch

Why bother

When you obviously

Do not want

What I want

Do not need

What I need

And my desires

Are simply a burden for you

And the burden

Is only going to make our evening

More and more cumbersome

I am merely silent

Because to say anything

Would be an explosion

 

I make no protest

As you ride roughshod

Over my carefully laid plans

Doing exactly what

I don't want to do

What is the point of protest

When I am going to lose, anyways?

I will do nothing

But display my own 

Status as a loser

But making the protest

So I let you 

Pretend to ask my opinion

And then go ahead 

And do 

Exactly what you want

But I still give you

All the courtesies

That are your due

And this is how

The soul withers

Like Bartika says,

Rukho banayekai chhu

Dherai dherai saal lagai

 

And now, there are two questions

If I am to share my soul

With nobody

Where will I express

Where will I be myself

Where will I let down my roots

Rest and replenish

Receive and be nourished?

Nowhere, I guess

 

If there is no space

For my wishes to be fulfilled

Where, then, will I be happy?

Nowhere, I guess

 

And what will I do with

All my stories?

All my wishes?

All my desires? 

I can store them up

Waiting for the right moment

Or, knowing that the right moment

Doesn't exist

I can pretend 

They don't exist

 

And yes, this is how

The soul withers

Becomes so thirsty

That even one drop

Of pure soul

Will be enough

To inebriate