تمھارا انتظار کرتی رہی تھی میں
تم آؤ گے، اعتبار کرتی رہی تھی میںآنکھ لگے تو کٹ جائے گی یہ غم شب
اسی امید میں ساری رات جاگتی رہی تھی میںکتنی شامیں ڈھلی دیوان لکھتے لکھتے
تمہے بے ساختہ یاد کرتی رہی تھی میںکبھی چاند اور سورج بھی ایک ہوئے ہیں؟
کم عقل، خوش فہمیاں پالتی رہی تھی میںاس اک دید کی خاطر،
اپنی عمر برباد کرتی رہی تھی میںاپنی کم ظرفی کو چھپانا چاہا تھا میں نے
بے بس تھی، مقدر کے آگے ہارتی رہی تھی میںتم تو فائز تھے سدرۃ المنتہیٰ کے روبرو
تمہے فرش پر تلاش کرتی رہی تھی میں~سدرہ
( I wrote this poem on my own, please show some love. )
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Two days, she told him she could do this wait. But in real she felt so incomplete as if she had lost something which she couldn't find.
After coming home from hospital, she didn't even know what to do. Everything felt empty. She kept aimlessly lurking in the hallway, staring at his grandfather's proud portrait, cuddling
the shirt he had taken off before leaving for the Islamabad and eventually she plopped in the lounge, defeately. Her body was lethargic, there was no more energy left with in. Her muscles were fatigued.She didn't want to make Iftar or go to his parents' home. She just wanted to be alone and cry for a while. Which she did, her heart was filled with unexplainable miseries, her mind was jumbled.
She didn't know she loved him this much, until now.
It was hard to spend an hour without him let alone two days. It was half an hour until Maghrib Azan and she knew for an unprofessional and broken crap like her, it was way too less. She at least needed 3 hours.
Realising of how much little time was left in Iftar and she hadn't even boiled an egg yet; it brought another set wave of tears.
She instantly wiped her tears away and got conscious of her surroundings as her ears caught some shuffles from outside.
"Api?"
YOU ARE READING
A hundred silent ways
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