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Onyx Oct 2021
A mother’s loss of her child
whether newborn or otherwise
Is a tragedy like no other
Or of a father losing his children
to infamous stereotypes dooming them to a pitiful demise
And everything that lies in between is an ugly spectrum to behold

What if I told you of something morbidly sinister, of an abominable reality
perfumed with the warmth of desire
leaving crevices over a hollowness
gnawed by the heat of pleasure
It is enrapturing yet demeaning
Exotically maddening

To be loved for the warmth Your silky skin
for the bliss held within fulfilling curves
and in seizing rapture of Your insides.
And Yet not be understood beyond Your ****** bounties
is a tragedy like No Other.

Is like a ghostly manifesto passing You by
caressing You with its cold indifference
a lassitude adopted by choice…

*Don’t Let Love Bring You Down
Onyx Jul 2021
Spring evenings with pink fluffy clouds in the ever blue horizon perfumed with the sweetness of spring exuded by the delicacy of exotic flowers, this is the likeness of what Love should be. Effervescent with warmth with its glory at peak in physicality.

This is what Love is imagined to be.

A Love doomed to fail is one where the beloved is convinced their existence is an immense misunderstanding. And no greater dilemma is there than the reality of it all marred by ego.
Onyx Apr 2021
Days folding neatly into weeks that eventually coalesce to months...

Did you miss me?
Did you think of me, seeing the gaping space between us, stretching ever tediously by miles of land and sea between us?
Did you miss the lack of it, where only the mere fabric of our clothes kept our warmth apart from one another?
Does it bother you, not being able to reach out and touch my warmth, being left with grasping yearningly onto thin air when overcome by nostalgia?
Do you take reverie trips when having my garments in your hands, smell my familiar scent to let loose the waves of emotions drown you?
Do you feel the emptiness around you haunt you menacingly and the cold of isolation, despite the warm sunrays bathing your room and kissing your skin?
Do you feel exasperated when hearing me but unable to touch me, feel me and just have me entirely?

I know you do, as do I.

The unpredictability of today and even more so of tomorrow makes the anxious more desperate for reunion, the many torn between inability to come together rave for some sliver of silver lining to get caught even accidentally by their convoluted fate.

Don’t worry, darling. The wait will be over. Soon. Until then, remember me and remember me often as I remember you so fiercely so I can come to you in your dreams, if not in reality, yet.
for those left isolated in the times of pandemic
Onyx Mar 2021
Every sunrise promises nearness of that fateful day
when I’ll be able to finally seize my love
truly make the darling feel the desire long expressed by tender words,
to truly touch upon the sweet spots and learn the geography of my beloved
forever to delight upon the expansiveness I find beneath the warmth of his skin,
to relish in the richness of his voice that conveys the beauty of his soul
as my beloved delights upon what he is to find in me,
comfort,
completion of self,
seat of desire,
a partner,
a companion,
And much, much more besides...

We await fervently for that day
breathlessly sleep into the night
to wake up to a new sunrise that brings that fated sojourn ever close
Until then,
Until that time we sweetly can only taste the power of our love that keeps us ever loyal and ever inseparable from one another
Despite the oceans in between
we are ever close
ever present in the depths of our hearts.
Onyx Jan 2021
Fiery sparks blossom into magnificent blooms in the night sky as the New Year’s first hour dawns on the restless night crawlers, the colors that gave way to the booms of crackling noise reminiscent of the tumultuous beat of each heart.

Far from the mayhem, far from the cluster gathered to catch the joy effused in the air

Betraying the incessant gloom we were made to call our own yet bade it farewell with a sanguine heart hoping to enter and live the new days to come with the semblance of normalcy taken for granted but now long sought for.

Uncertain and bleak however it may have been, disparage and misery barely hidden by masks, one of the few many fortunate found something most unexpected in such times of strife.

Love.

A rose bud of the past now bloomed wondrously, the luscious depth of color in the darkest of red faithfully flaunts the trueness of its existence. One might wonder at the stubbornness of this bud despite being rejected or abused had persisted against the odds and blooms vibrantly. Be it winter or summer, it held onto itself truer as ever. Much like a heroic bloom had this Love come to fruition, and yet so far from being seized entirely.

Oceans apart, yet never a day passed to make the heart throb any less for the other. Hopeful for that day when touch may eliminate any need for words, conveying the warmth and desperation a longing heart suffers from indefinitely. Hopeful to walk hand in hand through the newness to come.

Here is a toast to the new year to enfold in the favour of love and fortune, here is a toast for the ones who have lost much to unite with a newness to fill that emptiness. Here is a toast to all the survivors of an uncertain time... A Happy New Year to You.
Onyx Oct 2020
lying on the great expanse of pure white
shining bright as the unforeseen, speckless future
yonder desired and eagerly awaited
snow so thick yet so warm
a coalescence of innocence carpeting beneath the earnest lover
eagerly awaiting for slivers of bliss
flitting through the universe it transcends
,the vastitude of which may limit only if one conceives the boundaries of,
slipping into the fabric of mind and dreams of our lover
a wave of delight washes over
indescribable and overwhelming was the riot of love in the lonesome lover
lying on the snow garnering comfort
from the warmth of memories inked with permanence onto the waiting lover
Onyx Oct 2020
evenings dwindle ever so slowly
as if Time had forgotten to breathe;
suspended, in effortless gloom
wildly wishing
the overture would change for once
monotones bleed from things once cherished and abhorred;
people so beloved
held cruelly by the vortex created by Time and Land
the clock strikes its usual hour with an poignant ‘ding’
echoing in the staleness of now.

perhaps I’m deluded Time had forgotten her cue;
perhaps I myself had forgotten to live,
perhaps I had turned cold and merely waited for warmth to thaw me,
perhaps the wait for that elusive desire
halts the need for progression;

Perhaps
I have tasted the dismal dismay this disgruntled encasement delivers;
it took so long to notice...
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