Leave Me

Leave me an address.
I will write a letter on an old parchment
saying things I want to tell you as each day progress
telling you how much I love you,
how much I miss you 
and what we could do when we meet again.

I'll write a letter,
seal it with sweet incense 
and stash it away. 

Leave me a number.
I'll think of all the things I need to tell you,
I'll note them down as they occur,
all the songs I should hum into your ears
on the long monsoon nights.

I'll pick up the phone 
think of all the sweet things
and will slowly drift off to the land of dreams. 

Leave me a kiss.
I'll muse on the intricacies of your lips on mine
your dreams in mine 
your hands in mine
the fingers entwined
as the sun streamed on to the weary white of your old poster-bed. 

I'll redraw those lips in my mind
with the perfection of the picasso we talked about
and the days will go by.

And the time will fly
and you'll forget me
and me? 
And what will happen to me?