Nothing left but
the timid
spirit that hides
in
the black corner.

You seem like a thing of the past,
Like a book I've read years ago
And forgotten most of the plot to.  

Though a vague structure of the events
Remains cemented forever in
The corners of my mind
More dark and unkempt,
The details that once made it hurt
Have withered into dust,
Now only scattered
In small concentrations
Across the ledges of my days
That I forgot once carried the weight
Of my adoration for you.

In the corner of my memory
In the corner of my room
Lies a brown piano I've spent my life with.

In the corner of my memory
I hear music being played
Magical fingers dancing upon the keys.

In their corner of my memory
I see brown hair and brown face
But jet black eyes and a musical smile

In the corner of my room
A bully I see, against lockers
Outcast locked in its room.

In the corner of my memory
I see water. I breathe water.
No painful expression, just peace.

In the corner of my memory
In the corner of my room
Lies a brown piano,
I'm now spending my existence with.

Shes's the pretties carrier of a soul,
A Damsel fallen through a wonder hole;
She bounces in joy all around the place,
A moment she's here, and another she's everywhere.

Her face round like the softest stress ball,
Eyes with a diamond's shine
and
Hair fallen down the shoulder like a waterfall.

Ohh My!! I tell you
She's like a divine doll
She's as cheerful as a bird in dawn
She's got flair of grass in a fine uncut lawn.

He never touched her, never spoke to her or even said a Hii
Just kept getting mesmerized from the Corner of an Eye !!!

There is a boy,
A presence stumbled upon in the shadows,
He hides his face to conceal his identity,
I see his flaws, but no one points at them and laughs,
He is surrounded by rusty chairs and a cloud of darkness,

He does not speak.
He does not think.
He simply stares at the world.

An empty dreamer with all intentions of barking,
He wants me,
I see him,
But my soul is engraved for another,
This boy,

I want to know what he desires.
I want to know if he stares at me for a "hello".
I want his attention.

The next day, he is gone,
A glimpse of his presence is captured, but not saved,
A figure of darkness and a corner of loneliness,
Shaded patterns of sadness echo in my senses,
Silently pushing me towards the abyss,

A face of fade.
A smile so still.
A beautiful soul trapped beneath a blank, stern, and silent scope.

I still want to know what he thinks,
My future is set in place, but is watched by the dark,
This boy needs light,
He needs a guardian,
To graduate with a wing of gold,

This foggy corner represents a relationship.
This boy signifies change.
This darkness is my unhappiness.

A narrative poem broken down into three sentences,
But do not be blind to the objective,
The words beneath the cracks,
I write about a boy,
A second image pierces my periferells,

On the left, is love.
On the right, is curiousity.
On the real, curiousity kills the cat.

I killed the boy,
I shot his nerves, point blank, with the roll of my eyes,
I just need attention,
I need constant attraction,
I adore his love,
I cherish my love for him,
Engraved in darkness,
Altered by a corner,
Continuous attention feeds my emptiness,
Until,
I,
Fade away,
Into my dark corner.

River man takes his journey
through mearending reeds,
he's  got truth in his pocket
a diary of promises unsated.
For a shilling he take you to
hangmans corner,
a place to clear your head,
for a throw of the dice
he show you
the secret of life itself,
but beware of his wry smile!

The colors that have drained
from the dreams of people,
lie cluttered on the doorway
of their homes.
Everytime they try to leave
for something more practical
and more safe life, that they chose,
that awaits them everyday
and does not keep them worrying
about what all they can loose.
Everytime they step out,
even in hurry,
they sidestep that clutter.
Look at it from the corner of their eyes
and for a second their heart seems aware
of the frost that is killing it.
For a second the reasons for the
sleepless night and blank gazes is recalled.
But the limbs keep moving
to keep a distance from hopes
that never materialize.
On their way back home
they dread to see
the clutter of discarded dreams.
But they want to believe
that ignoring and forgetting it
becomes easier with time.
Although it never has.