She had raw love
the one you don’t find easily,
the one that is hard to play with,
the one that destroys you.
but you will still keep asking for more
because it’s a poison
that would end your hidden sufferings
because she can make you believe
with her eyes and love
that you are missing something within
you don’t fear death now
you fear those eyes,
Fill me up to the brim :
With a dream made up of your voice.
So when the silence finally descends,
at the dead of the night,
I could trace you once again,
like a painter does.
With his bare hands.
Just whisper, when?
Don’t ask why.
This pandemic has made us work more than before, so for the sake of comfort I revamped my Writing/Work Setup. A mini office for the mini accomplishments .
The subways are empty
at the dead of the night.
Their exits recoil themselves
in the ashes of the ashes.
I whiff a pure smoke of a forgotten memory
and let it breed within my substructured brain.
A graveyard of cigarettes greets my shoes.
The lights go hazy as the winds turn warmer.
Another dull night has been devoured today,
with the help of a fifth of liquid courage.
Darkness needs darkness.
Its an immortal curse,
an undying thirst.
It travels with an agonizing silence
from the corpse of an empty bottle
to my eyes, staring an abyss
I wanted to curse everyone
with my eyes, while slitting their throats
by my tongue.
But I reach home dejected
whirling myself into an abyss
I try the usual grind,
to type something beautiful,
but the words have escaped my prison ago.
I need a new remorse, to vomit a new grief.
So I set the whole garden on fire
And who do you become?
by swallowing a light deciphered
through a stained glass,
For its crystals are lattices of memory,
that have caressed your ghostly voiceless passages.
It breaks in an afternoon, you never noticed ,
The memory vaporizes
and before you know, it smells as if
someone remembers you in a time you forgot.
Do you become a ghost, savoured by unfiltered light, blinded to the earth by a touch that warms?
Is this how they mix, fear and nostalgia
to a heart that is child to its own and aloof of its lineage?