I want to collect your dust,
adorn my soul with your heartbeat,
and my happiness will never rust,

Your arms will become
my most worn cloak
and my demons will
go up in smoke.

When you say that
I am better than him
You are forgetting that
He and I are both grown from
The same sandy soil

We may have sprouted differently
But to write him off is to
write me off too
As if my roots
and my stalk
and my flower
are not one

Well friend,
The most beautiful flowers have
The deepest roots
Mine, are intertwined with his
(Though I do not need him
to thrive)
Our stories, can not be separated cause
We've been through the rain
and mud
and beating wind
together

Even if we
flower in
incongruous seasons
neither of us are
better or
worse or
less full of life

How can someone with
the same ***** soul be
unworthy of my time?

every fight
every intention
collaps
inevitably you
as flush in my mind
no relief from you
not the evening
my free thoughts
to wander in the dark
run to you
not the night
in flights of my unconscious
I drown in your arms
not the morning light
my eyes closed
my heart awake
every single weak heartbeat
is consumed in you
inescapably you
tangled
to me
your thick scent
gelatinous shell of every atom of me
obsession
passion
pain
persistent hum
every fight
every intention
drown
surely you
sweet poison
poignant languor
eager anticipation
of an instant
of authentic
essential
abandonment

You know
and I also know
it is not fair
to allow brave breaths to die
and fall silently on the ground,
to allow insane thoughts
to flame the air  

But when the little boy
was lighting the fire
in between your and my house
you didn’t stop him
neither did I  

So we have to go through the pain
of seeing our beautiful houses
made out of soft colourful love
surrendered before the fire  

Now we have no options
but to stand with burnt ashes of our heart
in our hands
and nothing remains
that can be termed as desire

Though our minds knows
nothing can heal the pain
our heart felt,
one thing is needed
and only one thing is required
a more volcanic fire  

A war  

But where is the boy who lit the fire?