do you still believe?
that if you close your eyes
you’ll dream once more.
of a world we built
under the glow of stars.

each night as i pull the covers tight around me,
i wonder if you still dream
with me. of me. of us.

i must be insane to still stay up,
waiting for you to crawl back under,
to these once vibrant dreams now turned grey.

but you know what they say about dreams,
‘don’t give up on them.’
and that is the reason why after all this time,
still i keep sticking glow in the dark stars up on my ceiling.
may they light the way back to dreamland.

{d.f. | 04/04/18}

i am sitting on a cobalt blue stool
in your placid, dull kitchen
with my head in my hands.
you're gone.

there is a hazy
veil of grey
that covers the late
afternoon sky
and a stagnant silence
stretching to the ceiling.

everything is still;
the empty glass
in front of the
vacant violet vase
and
your ill-fitting
jean jacket
that is lying on the
dark wood.

my stomach crawls around.
my eyes are almost shut.
my legs are numb.
you are not here.

only the clock ticks,

and tocks.

Everything is grey,
The sunrise is so muted,
Drowning everything,
It cannot be disputed,
Everything is grey.

Everything is grey,
No happiness, no strife,
My hands, my thoughts,
My dreams, my life,
Everything is grey.

I watch from a place far away,
A silent, lonely visitor,
I don't like to stay,
Because, because, because,
Everything is grey.

I feared grey
And always
Kept running
Behind the shades..

But it was you,
Who
when left me
In grey
Alone,
made
me realise
That "grey"
Was the
most suitable one
For me..

For besides
All the shades
It was "grey"
That always stay
When nothing else did
Including you...

©poojakaundal
apr042018

Grey, how to describe it,
All of its hazy ways to amaze,
It's a smoke that rises from a blaze,
It'll greet you at the dawn of a dreary day,
A streak of it will scurry across your kitchen floor,
It'll tower over you and spit on you all day,
wishing for the end of May.
It's the matter that makes us think and write a poem about it.
It's what allows us to not have to be so black and white.

Grey days could be Great days.

Every night
you come to me in my dreams
I see your face all night and day
Though it never goes my way
My dreams once in color
now are in full grey

You tell me it was all in my head,
this thing between you and me
We were never meant to be
can't you see?
I refuse to believe this
But his love has never been for me

You laugh at me and my imagination
You don't commit awake or asleep
You'll never like me as much as I like you
This much I know to be true
I can see his body
clearly his tattoo

My brain likes to tortures me
Putting doubt in my mind
These nightmares leave me crying,
I question why I'm still trying
If I told you I wasn't falling
I'd definitely be lying

He is in love with questions,
Little questions that she asks to him,
And the lilting world of words,
With the fabric of philosophy,
Taste of fresh ideas,
Interpretation of dreams and zodiacs,
And definitely for her stupid riddles.

But at the same moment

He is in love with one who left,
And the poisoned past he baths in,
With being perpetually lonesome,
In love with terrible yet beautiful memories,
With darkness, deep and coveted,
And holds scars for the one who left.

But what is actually happening

His soul is getting grey,
On journey with black and white passengers.

His body is getting ****,
With dusky heart and lightened mind.

Sadness and madness has held him together,
over and again.