Morning wakens
To cradle lost souls
Bonded
By its hand.

Undoubtedly,
It touches the wound
Branded
On my skin.

The pain rests awhile
And drudges itself
Among the numbness
Of scars.

Lady Luck approached me.
Lady Luck waved goodbye.

Two short years of "warmth-ness",
Two long years of lies.

"Love is for suckers." I believe him.
The old man's words were true.

If only I believed him then,
That day when I'm in rue...

To me
You are
The heating sun,
Giver of life,
Shower of warmth.

I am
To you
The iceberg
Melting.

Joyful at the moment...
Desperately hanging on
To former dedications
Never to return.
Every now and then
They seem to pass by,
Retracting every alteration
Of letting lie outgrow
The sediments and bits
Once possessed by the heart.

Evening comes
And the day
Grows dim.
Tired of
Illusions
From a setting sun
As the routine
Continues:
Sunrise,
Sunset;
But the skies
With its clouds
Intact.

Chinaware arranged
On a dining table -
A spectacle of silver
And breakables.

The clock strikes another hour
Yet no figure enthrones itself
At the opposite side
Of my seat.

Clutching my eyes
To the staircase
Of the chamber,
I wait patiently...

Though the food have gone cold.

Can I call you mine?
I guess not.
It took me some time
To realize this fact.

Smiles reassure second chances
But never will it
Blossom and bloom.

Lady, I am weary.
Induce me a deep sleep
And allocate my fears.

Though I call you mine;
Your heart,
With aggravations,
Will never be.