Evening air and dry text replies
It is a cold winter day,
in the midst of July.

Clear and loud silence,
surrounding her steps.
The sudden reflex to deflect.

A random call. A sudden ‘yes’.
Opening door, a familiar face.
Same old, same old.. exhausting exchange.

Dancing hands,  soulless gaze.
Curious hands, hypnotising embrace.
Rushing hands, the usual regret.

Lust overdoses, her soul feels sore.
Another heart rash. Repeat. Regret. Repeat.
emotional hangover,  


             unread morning-after text.

You could go hide
In the edges of the earth.
In the deepest of the oceans.
Yet, my soul would know,
I — would know,
you are there.
  For it finds you more still
Than any precise satellite
or Gps there could be.

I guess I’ll always be looking for you

In every crowd

And I know,
You won’t be there.

But maybe,

someday,

our eyes
will meet again

They keep on taking,

I am already empty.

What else can you strip me of?

My soul is already naked,

My flesh exposed

My heart vulnerable and lost

It’s a lovely day. Another lovely birthday. Sadness keeps expanding.. by the 29th, it has rooted in my heart