The Longing Poem by Shakira Nandini

You await the pain of eyes,
The pain that, when it drips, appears blood-red,
When it condenses, carries light away,
When it spreads, turns the garden of life
Into a desert, barren and devoid of life.
You await the seasons' pain,
A pain so deep
That in your absence,
The nights crawl aimlessly,
And these grey evenings are futile,
Days pass without purpose,
And the mornings are dull and pale.
You await the comforts,
That pain,
Like an old, abandoned temple,
Carrying the burden of yellowed melancholy.
Like a priest, sitting among ashes,
Your absence bears a pain,
A pain that begs the question:
How does it ever leave?