Let's ban longing

A post after so long, and sadly, tis a poetry :) Something I wrote a couple of months back, and didn't immediately set on fire because I sort of liked it... and stewed over and fretted over and hemmed and hawed and backfooted over it. I like it because persistent rain and water pouring in through walls is a peculiarly Bombay experience, where it's like the rain takes over our lives - and our homes and our roads - for a bit. 

I think it's a sad poem, and I rarely write sad, so I like it all the more for that. 

Tell me what you think. 

Let’s ban longing.
No more should it be allowed to seep into the mind like rainwater that comes in from the poorly-built window next to the porous wall.
Use newspaper, quickly, in sheaves, to suck up the water that seeps in without pause,
And hope that the rain, with its delirious smells, will stop.
But rain, like longing, knows how to defeat you into quiet hopefulness.
It knows the power of perfume and persistence,
So that finally, all there is, is abject surrender to the wetness.
Let’s ban longing.
Let’s say no more of this shit.
Let’s stop the clouds from gathering droplets into themselves
And swelling up till they can hold it in no more.
Let’s sit by our feeble selves and protest.
Let’s ban clouds from gathering and letting go of their promise at our windows.