He held himself with a somber sadness
His massive shoulders sagged to the floor
As if something at his center had just given up
Perhaps life dealt him a bad deck of cards
or perhaps he had just got some very bad news
That is when I noticed the picture at the table
Sitting at his right in his favorite corner booth
was an old picture of a very lovely woman
Come to find out later this was his beloved wife
They were married for 55 wonderful years
She passed away in 2009 but that did not stop him
He still dines with her every day
and kisses her picture every night
He talks to this picture like she is right there with him
Now that is true love my friends  <3   <3

I can't do away with a broken soul, nor can I fix all the pieces. So I'm tearing out the pages of me, to ease this pain that never ceases.

Scribbled verses set in margins, that make sense only to those who choose to see. Erasing all the unspoken truth, that made a prisoner of me.

Dog eared pages I intended to revisit, one day when they made sense. Learning lessons from Humility, yet I've bent at her expense.

What is written in the book of me, no one would want to read. Demons sitting in the darkness, bickering over what they prefer to feed.

I put it all to paper, now I want to destroy it in the end. This book of me has come to be, my only confidant and friend.

The work I do is not easy,
but it's not bad.
I'm glad to have it,
when it's all I've ever had.

I am a student of the night.
I wear a black patch
on my sleeve.

My teacher's name is Sleep,
and she goes by Dreams, too.

She moonlights by the creek
that flows like a gust of wind
through leaves I never knew,
places I've never been.

We sing songs about you, love.
This song's about you.

What for you need a pen that writes black?
The man at the counter shot back
What has the blue done to offend you?

Look up the firmament
Over there the kingfisher
Once I had been to the sea
She was blue
Surely you prefer over black
A blue saree for her
So many men have staked their life
For the blue eyes of women

And then as if volleying the winning goal

Why not color all your wishes with blue
To paint the world blue-wish?

As I turned to walk away
My eyes caught the writing on his wall..

Black ink for the black heart
For the fool and the dull
Blue for the man of art
With matter in the skull

I had come to the wrong shop.

planting and then digging up the past
like grasping hands of shattered glass
scattered patterns come back fast
an attachment to the splattered mass

blackened fragments of first and last
spattered paths that lead right back
stabbing agony that will never pass
shackled to the everlasting black

Who am I
When your joy is all I seek
Yet, your sorrow grows
From the words I speak
Your pain expands
When I beg your smile
Your tears
A river's breadth, a mile
My love surrounds you
In warm ocean waves
And drowns your soul
While I mindlessly bathe
Who am I
Who gives you all
Though all seems
Rather boldly small
When my best attempts
To lift you high
Leave you deeper
Tell me,
Who am I

Colours were flattened beneath
a dull stretch of graphite sky.
Its cloak dampened the dimension
of nature's vibrancy,
trapping an uncomfortable
heavy warmth void of wind's sigh.
Birds couldn't manage a chirp
nor dogs a bark.

Weighted limbs sprawled
from lifeless bodies
drained of energy.
Lazy eyes lolled
in attempts to peruse
a tree's limp leaves
in hope of movement
urging them
for a sign of relief.
Those eyes soon retreated
to drift and dream
behind weary lids
which sank
as silently as the absent sun.

I'm not from this world.
And my presence brings about discord.
I look at the stars with rendition
And I see my own reflection.
When I look at the sun
I am blinded by my own loved one.
I have misplaced my home.
Betwixt and between. I am destined to roam
This plane with false convictions.
Drowning my pain in addictions.
I want to go home, but this
Body, this cage; still breathes.