Sadness clings to the fringes of my existence and though many storms have run past me, but it's the static of your silence that holds the solitary blame. I'll recover from visible bruises and aches, walk it off or better yet, dance through the pain, wearing usual nonchalance studded with piquant quips, like always, I'll find a way to front a facade of 'okay'. But the cask of your troublesome turn threatens my abstinence, each night when the noise of this metropolis isn't loud enough, it whispers in my ear, barely audible, begging to take a sip. And the bandage on this wound is once again ripped too soon. It's another sleepless night, thick with inquisition, as before, with no glimpse of starlight to sedate my restless nerves. And what were shadows of queries, unbidden they now arrive with darkness, transforming into furious whys. Their rumblings have begun a clamor asking one question after another. If you never felt the same, why bother making florid claims? Why couldn't you grant the courtesy to say a word or two when I tried reaching a détente? We didn't have to be anything to each other but was grace off the table too? Tell me, did you spin a bottle to pick a name? Shouldn't you have let me in on the rules before you started this game? And on and on they go, as invigorated as a daybreak unlike my now dog-tired veins. Merciful is time in its indifference, for dawn has arrived as bells toll emphatically to signal the end of this barrage. Luminosity is getting busy swiftly tearing through the blinds, illuminating sensibility as it shreds disquiet's entourage. And answers like smell of freshly brewed tea, come wafting through, into this sullen heart That you were always in love with your pride and only a fool would hold grudges against your fidelity's mirage.