I Heard, come what may We would revisit those spaces, Once cherished and left midway For, the memories, they pull. Those incomplete sweet nothings Crooned together with a certain heart Which we wanted to make our own, And the words that trailed off with a lump in throat When the same slowly and painstakingly Faded out of the frames, Yet, lingers somewhere deep down In half closed morsels. Don’t we long to complete those half seen Dreams again?! To mend a heart that’s broken in shreds? Don’t you dream to reignite a Spark that failed to flame? I do.. Still..
Before the spill there was soaring. And then anti-g. I readied myself for the ultimate fall. This was the poetry of submission sharing the pain of disillusionment. Who was pretending of liberation in a see-through heart? This was the time
Since I saw you, I’ve had this hope live in me. That everything that isn’t needed be gone. The details of sales papers, shopping carts. The ease of temptation. Standing still. To fill my cart full of things I don’t
Slashing the surged monarchy of celibates stoking the fire of wounds, the turret locks on to a target taking off the gloves. The mountain was rising. A sheet of the floating ice disturbs the ecology of heart. I place my
Ceramic memories and terracotta pain; the injured crypt ultimately got opened. At urn burial, the name was absent. A pristine ritual for a nameless martyr. The sword within him was not used and pubescent bomb went unexploded. You leave a