Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
And in this field of hazy blue
The con substantiality of you
Fills houses of the room
In bloom.
I am not yelling
colour me m/yellow!
The yellow taciturn
highlights of your room
The glistening of your crystal eyes
Snow globe domicile
Star studded decorum
Infinity unfaded in
the ribbon of our embrace
Recurring dreams of
our hypothetical life together.
And dreams apart.
Seperate our bodies but
not our souls nor our hearts.
As we nose dove into placid waters,
time and the sea froze in remembrance;
silhouettes of men, women and children
paraded towards the horizon,
their bodies, limbs and organs made of
the sand that made the beach
with each step taken west
they dissolved,
the air was thick with salinity and tenderness.

The Sun grew with warmth,
at the exuberance of this melancholic loop,
a helpless witness;
it etched this moment in time into their skulls,
a back-lit memory to never return to what broke them.

The Sun grew louder,
with omniscience.
Time and the sea unfroze,
and we delved deeper
into the mystic in search of ourselves.
The waves retreated in reprieve,
promenaded caskets of their past to the shore.
We realised we were more,
than just survivors in the sea of broken hearts.
Leave me out in the dark
I'm not your playground of destruction
that you run to during your recess.

chiseling the grass,
sharp as sickles.
thrashing your leather whip
on the dusty ground
with an unerasable frown.

Strangling it around
the rusty bridles
of my broken swingset,
ripping it out from root down
at the twitch of your wrist.
Straddling my worn out see-saw
imbalanced by the wreckage of time
prance around until it
shatters into a million steel slivers,
While your hair brushes the clouds
while you have the first taste of rain
and feel the chill of snowflakes against your skin.

But this playground,
this zealous monument,
was built for
a higher purpose.
It's a place where
streams overflow,
wildflowers grow,
solace to the fireflies afterglow
& poetry readings during
seasons of snow.

If it does not stand for it's purpose,
my trembling hands will flick
a matchstick on the the wick of the trial
to arsonate it's submissiveness
and eat it's dispossessed soul.
It's flames will touch the
cradle of the crescent moon.
And from the ashes

I will rise,
*the Undying Light,
the Untouchable Night.
Waiting
on the front porch
going through
the newspaper,
sipping on green tea.

My heart
is looking out
into the distance
in search of
the shadow of you.
Glistening sea ****, eye contact - infinite intensity
Filling the gap in between our fingers, stuck in millenial concordants
Taking photos on your polaroid of ravens and maple leaves
and black and white silhouttes of you.
Not, Clicheing//Different Socks on each foot
Watering Daisies on the pavement where we brushed past each other
Criss crossing parallel rail lines paved across the universe
Lost Stars.
Biting our lips to the blistering cold weather,
gloved* hands stitched together.
Me loving you,
You loving me,
in *naturale.

as of now, as of forever.
I'm the ragged, plain white canvas and
you're the most supercalifragilisticexpialidocious painting.
Our dead hearts inhale the meekness of the weather.
Our dead hearts whimper at the sound of sirens wailing.
Our dead hearts ardently listen to
the gushing of blood through yours/my/our veins.
Our dead hearts rhythmically resonate at
the exuberance of our peripheral hyperventilating lungs.
Our dead hearts,
Our eyes smoulder,
The Sun. The Moon.
As we gaze into each other’s souls.
Our dead hearts are alive for each other.
We might be of different races,
the colour of our skin
might be different
maybe our hair,
maybe the language
our tongues speak are different.

*But our hearts all beat the same.
You touched my soul and imprinted on my tainted heart,
but I still wonder why you left, without even saying goodbye.

And it often makes me irrevocably disconsolate.
Like moth to flames, I am to love.
But I often mistake a spark for a bonfire.
The dreary demise
of my somber past
will not be mourned
But, will be a vivified
deconstruct of
future cheer.
Us/you/I* swaying on the spiralling
star-smudged staircase
that leads to the evanescent
crescendo of the sun.
Synchronously//Contemporaneously,
the moon subsisting in her shadow,
spills ashen white light ray
andlimn her initials,
across *the somber sky.
The callous of you flail like the moon and you used to set every morn between these arms, now muddled with grease and sweat,
Every time I blink I see bokehs of you, ramming straight ahead at every juncture,
sans collision.
I’ve left notes to forget us and
I’ll rummage through every broken channel in search of my soul.
I feel a taste of my teeth in between the skeleton of leaves, the aftertaste of reminisce and a new found deep.
The skies have woven a path and lead to where the gorge stooped over the balaclava of the Earth.
I felt everything and nothing, a conch kept close to the heart, tidal waves jugular with your half moon eyes crashed against my chest, a chill travelled down my spine reinvigorating my sense of purpose.
I felt alive for the first time.
After you.
I know I’ve strode far towards the shore, the light piercing through every pore, an insatiable waning for ever more,
my lungs throb and my hands strife in the direction of the uprise.
My heart beats on, repeating a song of redemption, playing
“I’ll learn to swim in these lonely waters, at every horizon where I met me,
where the sun swallowed the sea.”
The wind exhaled with me, in unison with the spirit.
I was one with the wilderness,
the wilderness one with me.
Hey guys. I'm sorry for my disappearance for a long while. I was just caught up in the pangs of life :)
Fear is the speculum that keeps your jaws open,
while the cherries roll down your throat.
(In)Coherent pulses,
Dreamscapes and landscapes,
Cross fading winds knocking at their  front door
His delirious (un)attempts to slacken back
his mangled froward hair;
she necessituously brushed aside her hair
which made unparalleled intersections
at her forehead which seemed to him like comet tails
intermittently intertweaving within their nebulae
multifaruously forming exquisite cosmic dust
which when he had a whiff,
****** his pitless melon collie into the void.

His fingers brood at the birthmark on her arm.
You're the bridge across
his brokeness and finding himself.
Same blood, same love running
through his veins and every artery.
Breathe life into the pen names of our children.
Widening the gap between
the venerations of his & his faith.

Pulses aching coherently across the stringent,
point decimal of an infinity.
I’ll cry a sea of madness
and break down into
raging thunders for
you,
my darling.

But only if the
masts of your ship sails
in the direction of
the voyeuristic wind
that leads into
the uproar of the waves
that will tear you apart
with my volatile love.
I’ll cry a sea of madness
and break down into
raging thunders for
you,
my darling.

But only if the
masts of your ship sails
in the direction of
the gale wind
that leads into
the uproar of
my love.
Our house is burning down.
The flames are lashing and tearing
every(our)thing in it's wake.
From the bottom to the top,
Our daughter's doll house,
our miniature planetarium in our bedroom,
my compilations of writings about you/I/us.

Don't rush for the door, dear.
There's still a chance we can subsidise these
gallowing flames that's trying furiously
to charr our ship in the message in the bottle
and our memories into ephemeral ash.

Stay.
For all the reasons to save what we have,
what we've longed for so long,
what we've built from the pit of our hearts.
So,
Stay.

We'll find our way through the maze
and through every well wishers curses.
We'll fix everything that needs to be tended to
and we'll grow to love each other once again.
**I'm staying.
The magnolia smile of yours beaming with startling radiance,
The inconspicuous/electric stimulant touch
of your fingers swerving across the slight of my shoulder,
Polychromatic fireworks at twilight,
imploding like reticent galaxies,
at the sight of you
within my hapless/star crossed self,
Pebbles & beads on marked destinations
on the atlas of our hands,
Your lush lips on me,
cause aching thunders to rage
within this bottled up hail storm within the silhouette of me,
I//Conjure flowers in the back of your esthetical/messy hair,
Constancy and infinity.
Mine.

*To let go.
I
All lovers past
fade into footnotes
in the book of your life.
II
You are the central character,
the setting,
the plot,
the conflict
and
the resolution.
So
Don't ever let
a mere footnote
take over the "your story."
III**
It's your **** story,
and you deserve
a happy ending.
(unclogged of your past.)
By the time I’ve consumated
poetry about you,
all that is left on paper is
dappled/blotted
nonsensical words
with the afterglow
of my tears
fervently
held back.
Your emotionally dilated eyes,
Your supple rosy lips,
Your star embossed body,
Your sonorous voice,
Your mellifluous music of words,
Your mystical aura,
You’re magic.
Your angel envying face,
Your soaring grace,
Your burning passions,
Your reflecting bliss,
Your besmirching confidence,
Your temporal madness,
Your look of despondecy.
Your rainbow smile.
Your moonbeam walk of life.
Your sunshy love.
Your,
You.
Happy Valentine's day! :)

— The End —