He saw her completely vanishing
from his reality,
but in disguises gatecrashing
in to his poetry.

Show me your dark side darling.
I am driven
by this hopeless devil inside.
Let my incessant words
inspire you,
like your appeal
does me,
relentlessly.

I am not a puppet
on a string.

I am not made of wood.
I am real bone
and flesh,
not paper mache.

But I want you
to pull my strings
anyway.

Please.

I think
I'm going to die
without
you
playing with
me.

at the end of a relentless enquiry
she was found sleeping in a cemetery;
as love prompted,from the dna of memories,
he resurrected the lost love in his poetry.

he wandered in to her light,
darkened by her broken desires.
since then he only preferred
darkness, pure unadulterated!
darkness coiling within light
denies it's truce inner motives
gives a bad twist to the light.