My heart was ripped
out of my chest
Bleeding at your feet.

and you stepped on it when you walked away from me.
out of my life.

my blood and guts stamped on the bottom of your shoe.
a stain you may never notice.

I am now a foot print.
left for someone to follow
and finally take the place where I once was.

His spacious heart
is brimmed with
unspeakable grief now.
It can be soothed
where in this land of felony?
The desolated gardens
of his emotions
wear a blazed and a parched look.
What they can appeal
other than the showers of your compassion?
The shadows of despondency
run in tandem to his unpropitious walk.
It can be sliced
by what other than
your luminous company?
You are the only obstinacy of his naivety,
he
baffles death on your hope,
your arrival can
set free his baked soul.

Will not you come..? ? ?

He recalled
The harrowing times
         of the delightful past.
When his cavalcade of love
          paraded the valleys of treason.
When the fountain of loyalty was
         suffocated by immaculate treachery.
When the lofty emotions were
          colonized by scorching beauty.
When torment itself meant sooth.
When none but
she plundered him miserably.
And his companions hijacked by desolation......
All he wants is a corridor of shame
     where he could invest
his earned looses beneath the agonizing walls of anonymity.
Do him a favor, arrange it for him....

Will not you....? ? ? ?

The hovering
of dark clouds ******
my stale memories,
the exultant memories
of ominous days.
when my breaths scrambled in
suffocated corridors
Of acute treachery,
like the irresolute wick of
a lamenting candle
survives the gushing wafts
of wrathful wind, only to enter
another phase of
unspeakable horror.
Oh! Dear candle,
my candid pathfinder of
apocalyptic nights,
cursed you are.
thawing your being
in service of this
barbaric world,
they blow you off forever
in just one exhale of
tampering frustration
naming you
the heartless murderer
of romantic moths.

Spare no expense tonight
my dear,
to dissect my agitated heart
and strangle
every complaintive syllable
Sprouting in it.
Let the merciles lances of
your scornful blushes
Haunt every corner
of this ruptured flippant.
Let the rapacious looks
of your aggrieved eyes
Squeeze out of it,
the remaining drops
of inauspicious hope.
let the vulturous howling
of your choicest curses
Suppress the tunes of
unfulfilled promises.
my dear the prestigious
draperies concealing
the agonising tale of
thy inclemencies
are about to fall, come
Save the face of love.
Come my dear as my breaths
Await thy last appearance
Come before my sick beats
Will divorce my pierced *****.

Will not you come?