Sunlight dawns, I pull the blinds -
I could see their face there,
In garden, tossing the twirls of golden curls,
They look at me, no words, silence at it's peak.
I can hear them breathe, they see me stare in amaze.

The sun shows the day,
They run down the streets,
Gasping for breath, they ask, "is the way to heaven, really long?"
"It's in your hands," I whispered.

They hold me so close,
Their warm breaths laden on my bruised skin,
Faded twilight horizon ;
Mingling our childish thoughts.

I hold them as a memory of peace in my heart,
From the day, I saw them, the very start.
Nothing feels like the pace of their lips on my fingers,
They take me by my feelings,
Tasting my finger tips :
Would you call ecstacy as an epitome of them?

They are the silver moonlight, stained on my red dress ;
They are the silhouette of my deepest desires,
Never would I let them leave -
Take me to the sky, make me all yours ;
No rhythm feels better than your silent whispers,
The echoes down the hallway,
Shards of paper glass torn, in our "merry".

                             - Anurima Mukherjee

P.S. - Explored through the sensuality of the frail thoughts of  someone, deeply desiring the presence of their silent lover with them.