Distance

Caffeinated and sleepless eyes,
Stare at the vacant spot,
Pensive and reflective.
In fact, in the solitude of the night,
When silence reigns,
Do certain thoughts turn inwards.
The lasting hours of December,
Had planted the seeds,
That slowly finds shape as they bloom.
The germs of distance,
Has truly set in.
The wheels of motion,
No more steady in their pace.
This thought,
Derides the naivety,
Quite helpless- clueless.
Where us three are concerned,
I find a synthetic filament,
Submerging truth.
It seems that maybe,
I do butt in-
To create the chasm.
Have we grown older,
And beyond?
Is it a rift that's brought about,
A slight drift?
Perchance, it's not;
Nor even by design or thought.
But subliminal actions
Prove the thoughtless wise,
And reactions gain
The double edged doggedness.
Maybe the three pair of eyes,
See different destinies now.
Or that monotony,
Has set in
The decaying flames on the eons.
Is it again,
The mental angst,
That each suffers from-
That brings a distance
Devoid of persistence to be glued.
I cannot document
All that mulls and boils.
It's mainly a fear
Of unslept dreams wept on.
The tide of times,
Maybe remain unfathomably defiant,
To all dares and prayers.
I hope, we bridge the yawing gap soon,
Instead of staring at crumbles of our debacle.
Instead of stars,  be rather, stuck with chars.
I don't want our symphony crying out it's last note
In a yelp of unvented sorrow.
I believe,
It's only us too,
While the third remains steady and sure.
He loves and shows it,.
While it's us,
Foraying into
The non-negotiable depth,
Of misunderstandings
As we forage our regress
Through these years.
So, even a conversation,
Doesn't lighten burden-
We aren't the punchbags now,
So much.
Rather, it's a fair exchange
Of expectations real and words.
My present and all it's elements,
Maybe losing charm as it rests away
In it's facade.