Before the silence, she was nowhere, Beyond the walls I was unaware. Breaking the silence, She showed up with a violin. Rhythm in walk, Childish in talk. Flowing hair, And lagoons in eyes. Her fingers compose, Lashes dance. I was falling after each stanza. I was 16, She was 22. Dreams busted to a multiple of 2, My violin teacher was my first Valentine. Even today, She is my best Valentine.
A silence on the night. The day fluttered quietly in whisper soft resonance, So many colours slowly dying Like confetti in the rain, And echoes touched each other, a reunion of themselves, As though they were astounded At their resonating
The moral dilemma was unlearning. less than truth. Downgrading the- branded witch. Vaccine was spawning new virus. O Buddha, why did you started looking beautiful and began sitting in a living room? Trailing the smoke I was going to find
(as imagined by this lumpenproletariat) When no bigger then innocuous, ho hum, happy go lucky generic black whole sonny and cher full pinhead size zit, thine pluperfect promising mysterious seat of pants whodunnit wordlessly wise wedded waywardness writ partly apportioned,
In those corners of your eyes my darkness prevades I wish all the doors gets locked from inside Why does our western gleam fades in twilight shades And still you’re searching for me in pale moonlight The night never brings