Beginnings, End Poem by Sparsh Jain

Long time, no talks.
Not even our eyes meet anymore, rare at-most.
We sit like, with our backs onto each other's.

I don't extend my arm to you, to sleep on.
Because you don't sleep anymore.
Just visualizing the horrors of this hand-picked road.

That we both wanted to walk, or at least talk.
Build a garden around, the tremor work-arounds.

How do you stop the flow?
The endless array of thought.

Settle was that what you wanted.
YES! SETTLE!