"asthenic" poems
*Holding her hand , walking on the streets.
Realizing the life in those skipped heartbeats.
Exuding the attar, she dulled my senses.
Tremulous tattered talks due to spooking menaces.
Then she talked in her asthenic voice.
And suddenly everything was just background noise.
All I could do was , stare in her eyes.
And I glimpsed into her soul beyond visible lies.
She was the configuration of pain and hope.
Inside, she was in a scrimmage and clinging with a mope.
Zealously & tenacious , inside , she was a fighter.
I hankered to describe her beauty in my words, as a writer.
But to describe such aesthetical effigy I constellated nothing, not even a single word.
I was stupefyingly stuck , like a fallen wingless bird*.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:00 PM UTC
like wallflowers growing peacefully,
with asthenic transparency
i perceive everything with eyes so weary
yet pick up the little things even angels cannot see.
leaping from star to star,
yet never knowing where to land,
traveling to places unfamiliar
casting shadows on every space at hand.
i can't help but wonder how it would feel to exist
with a presence that would linger,
one whose souls would reminisce,
where my voice would echo;
not as a croak of sullen desperation
but a sound that would cut through
the haze of hopelessness.
i would begin to think about the probability
of my misguided existence,
invisible, but sees everything;
no flesh and bone, but is hurting.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 7:10 PM UTC
She helps me escape reality,
Her voice is my lullaby,
Her eyes are asthenic,
Her lips is my firepower,
Her nose gives me grace,
She's my cosmos.
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 5:19 AM UTC
She helps me escape reality,
Her voice is my lullaby,
Her eyes are asthenic,
Her lips is my firepower,
Her nose gives me grace,
She's my cosmos.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC