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I don’t know if you know
I carry you
in an involuntary sigh
in a constant exodus of yearning
and in the frantic deepness of all
nostalgic thought, shaking time and distance
to place me near you
in the closeness of your warmth
remembered

I carry you in sorrow
precipitated
in the absence of your voice
and in the memory of your rib cage molded
in the shape of ardent weakness
my embrace

I carry you, the braille at the tip of my fingers
life drawn in lines on my left palm
and in the carcass of calm interrupted
by the pounding of a heart’s ill-time

I don't know if you know, but
I carry you in the crown of memories consoled
and in the spine of excess
where I fall, between involuntary sighs
defeated
in your skin remembered
from the confines
of the heart
On a night...just a night.
 Jan 2016 Victor Shade
Dead lover
For ages I didn't act as myself,
I forgot that I was sentenced death,
The day i took birth,
It's law of nature,
As true and as powerful as rest of its laws,
So same, so true,
For me, for you..

We do not need to survive,
We need to live,
We weren't born just to stay alive,
But to thrive..

I prolonged my development,
I am so ashamed,
In this game of society,
I too have /had been gamed..

I haven't been myself till now,
But, I'll be for all the time so left
A poem for my parents, am so pleased to be your daughter, I can never write about your love and stuff, but just can write about the way you've sacrificed your tastes, for rearing us...

Thank you so much mummy, thank you so much papa..
 Jan 2016 Victor Shade
r
Wisteria
 Jan 2016 Victor Shade
r
Oh, come on you black-eyed
***** Night. Spite me
with sleep. Strike me, like
a cottonmouth. Sing me
your dark song, like a footfall 
in my hallway, like a night watch-
man dropping his lantern,
a last turn of the fan, a whisper
of a mystery, a kiss with wisteria
and moonshine on your breath.
Thunderclaps in the ears,
A crown of grey hovers,
Sordid and sorrow,
absurdly familiar with a half smile.

Ironic and inflated with nerves
Of rubber bands, atrociously
Used to the jester's tears
And the slow agony of its entertainment.

And we stand when it hurts,
Pace when we are worried,
Let us walk the daily grind......

Through it all we cry and fizzle,
Drowned in the warmth of the tears,
The pain is familiar, the saddest clown!
 Jan 2016 Victor Shade
Mike Essig
Wrinkles and scars
are medals
won for valor
in the thousand
private battles
we call a lifetime.
  ~mce
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