Missing you is not an option

Sometimes it is more of a terminal rhetoric

Sometimes it’s the trial of the senses

When I meditate it is usually my own self that tries to perish

When I am back to the realms of morbid mortality

I realize that the angle of my deflations

Are in sync with the gravity of missing you

And I dump my excuses of being sad

In the turquoise greenery of old memories

And I say this to you now

It’s not in my transcendental control

To not avoid

Missing you

When the world shrieks with the atrocity of pain

There must be many

Who would miss their joys

My reasons of missing you

Perhaps are less in intensity

So I may think it loud

That missing you is not an option

But believing in love certainly is