There are days,
When I miss you
With a sudden intensity
Which surprises me.
It aches, in a way I didn’t deem possible,
In a heart, I didn’t know I possessed.
And I lie in this room feigning sleep.
Pining away, struggling with my existence.
While I choke from these strange arms enveloping me.
Should I strive, in vain, for you, most divine?
Or should I instead, be miserably content with what’s mine?
– Sreshtha Sen