28.01.2015
1:29am


We are tangled
so much
in our bitter PAST;
Choosing to unsee
the should-ve seen,

Chasing the wrongs
Losing the rights
Blaming you own
Digging your faults;

Letting the Dark
Deep clouds
Veil you
in their shadow;

You let,
Sadness to grow
Depression to follow
Dabbing lies on lies
Rubbing sentiments
till it flies;

High above
so above
You lose your sight
Yet you go back
Again to the lies
To the dead,
To the hollow sadness
To the excuses
To the regrets
Blaming it all
on this thing called love
Yet, You,
YOU choose to lie.

she was a poet,
and he was her pen.
in him,
she always found words to write,
songs to sing,
thoughts to think.

he'd smile,
and kiss her softly,
and say,
"write me a poem."

and she would.
she'd put poe,
and whitman,
and shakespeare to shame,
and she'd write a poem that made his eyes water.

she'd compare him
to a rose with no thorns,
a book with no end,
a world with no poverty --
the things we all wish for,
but can never attain.

//

he asked her one day,
"what am i?"
and so she picked up her pen,
and began the usual:
you are the shining sun after a hurricane,
with rays that open the eyes of the blind.
but he stopped her after those two lines,
and said that this time,
he didn't want any metaphors,
or similes,
or analogies.
he wanted the truth.

and so on that night,
as he slept,
the poet picked up her pen,
and she wrote.

she wrote,
then thought better of it,
then started over again,
and this cycle continued well into the early hours of the morning,
until suddenly,
she wrote, frantic,
if i can't love you for what you really are,
have i ever really loved you at all?

this, too,
she thought better of,
condemning it to the trash.

the next morning the poet was gone,
her final work a mere two words:

i'm sorry.

(a.m.)

Your voice halos in my ear,
in my head and everywhere
with silence and that sneaky stare
you smile at me and make me aware.

Those 8 days 6 hours and two
were enough to make me feel
the concealed and the invisible
the chemistry we could be.

So I wrote this tiny poem
while you were gone,
when you weren't here
when this loner was alone.


-Dolkar Lhamo!