Penthouse Melancholia

The stillness of the night

was punctuated with the whirring

of the elevators –

transporting us from the 15th floor

to the penthouse and back.

Transacting feelings through

incomplete words, gestures and stares

Half-baked politeness

Incoherent mumblings

Half a kiss, quarter of a hug, a quick glance

All leading to more confusion –

because what takes place in this

too busy hotel cannot be consummated

by the truth.

A vicious cycle of selfish wanting,

waiting and wishing.

Tell me, if I were ever yours,

would you have wanted me

the way you want me now?

I didn’t think so.

No common ground.

Just this elevator.

And the endless ride to nowhere.

There is no salvation for cowards hiding

in the shadows –

Half-strangers, half-lovers in the night.


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