Missing You

I passed by our favorite café today morning 

the place where food was uninspiring

and the ever-smiling steward was

Intimidating while nice,

wanting us to leave

as soon as we were done

our strategy was different, however

we couldn’t leave

In a conversation vacuum

that place had an art gallery

although the art on display

was to an extent, incorrigible

and dark, kind of clumsy

or many a times, superficial

the art gallery is still there

so is the steward

the only thing missing

is you and me, talking

over the same uninspiring food

your voice was invigorating nevertheless

I used to watch you eat,

while talking continuously

those infectious voices

loom large in my clever emotive mind

the sounds of cutlery, the cafe music,

the winter afternoons, your presence

all of it certainly,

in the complete histrionics

Is what the heart transpired

in all its innuendos

all of the last month and more

Your voice in all its trajectory

leads me on

to our freaking friendly banter

In the noises of outwardly discord

your pristine vulnerabilities shine through

I miss your infectious laughter,

that flamboyant spark

which no one can claim to have

but you

there may be disarray

or disharmony of thoughts and ideals

but exclusive time

that I had spent with you

is like a movie being played

a beautiful movie

of innocence, sobriety, naivety

and serendipity with some bossa nova jazz

as our background score

missing you is another space

where even “you” does not matter

it is an empty feeling that someone feels

even after a sumptuous dinner with a decadent dessert