Was It True? Poem by Satish Verma

You will not
nudge the war within.
I was waiting by your side.

Obliquely you stare
at me. We were
sitting at the sharp edge
farthest away from retreat.

Must not, you stop.
I will speak slowly. In nothingness
there was some existence.

This was not the end
of journey. Certainty was visible.
It had become bright star.
Glittering, but not coming near.

Pure white, like milk
disturbing my stance in dark. You were
shining in your ignorance.

Oh god, I don't
believe you. You won't come
when I open the door.