Deŋ Tiŋkeya

He married her beneath a borrowed sky,
Where drums were loud, but hearts were shy.
Her hands were warm, her smile was thin,
A quiet storm was held within.

He built a home with hopeful hands,
Drew future dreams in careful plans.
But in her eyes, so far away,
He saw a love that would not stay.

She moved like wind through open doors,
Untouched by vows, unmoved by wars
He fought inside to make her see
The man he was, the man he’d be.

At night he spoke, she softly heard,
But never answered with a word.
Her silence louder than despair,
A love refused, a vacant stare.

He gave her time, he gave her space,
He searched for warmth within her face.
But love, he learned, is not a plea,
Nor something forced, nor made to be.

So in a house where two hearts stayed,
A lonely man and a love that strayed,
He lived beside what he could not win—
A wife… who never let him in.