A sheen coats his eyes.
Shuts them, brimming remorse spills.
Opens them to a distant past;
Of soft thorns and prickly roses,
Cloudy smiles and happy tears.
Meek in their words, tranquil in his suffering,
They keep plunging him to dark.
He staggers, blinks against the past.
He wants to be obtuse now,
so that all subtleties go through him.
Nothing sticks long enough to burgeone this hole in him.
A pit so dark and deep, swallowing him whole.
-
Withered roses, starry nights, poignant poems.
Cold breeze, pale crescent, fading lights.
His heart keeps an inventory of every bitter memory,
Stacks them up in even shelves,
With names written beneath them.
They keep frosting his heart,
Echoes of the past breaking his heart.
He lifts one each night, cold making his fingers numb.
Touches the icy edges, peruses the worn scenes,
Till it's sinewy hold grips his heart.
Back it goes to the shelf then,
Waiting for dark anew.
-
"The stark greys of his past sought to blemish his soul,
One by one engulfing his conscience.
Teeming guilt overpowered him.
Was it; he didn’t knew any better before
Or he knew the workings of feigned naivety?
Was it foolishness to hark back in the past or was it a way to atone for his missteps?
Did he move on with it branded on his soul?
And was it a reason every step weighed him down?
Until every omission needed telling and every truth surrendering.
Ignorance and knowledge, both, did him no good.
Former hastened all evil, latter swelled his heart with remorse.
The workings of his mind lay bare before the Lord :
The entwined falsehoods in his mind, The truth of his heart.
While everything remained unforeseen of the future,
he dreaded he would be carrying this burden still.
What could erase it?
Numb mind or a dead heart."
-
Would parting from a person he never was hurt more than now?
Now, as my heart felt a fist around squeezing the leftover life.
Now, as I hid, breathing low so he wouldn't catch?
What memories would trail behind me If I indeed left? The bitter, the sweet?
The scar still carves my heart through all these years.
Lost connection I couldn't stop loving you through all the hurt.
Lost connection I lost myself loving you.
Lost connection, I stood up for me, finally, though your stiff hand stifled me.
Lost connection, I bid this goodbye to your memories like I once did to your soul.
( full in caption)-
The grip on your throat is tight.
The lines remain imprinted on it.
Your line of sight is blurred ; blackness envelops you.
Are you prepared to shun everything you have worked for?
Soul is seeping out of your heart, nothingness awaits you.
An oblivion reaches you, seeking you, lighting you, burning you.
All is left of you is your lifeless body, welcoming the embrace of the earth.
The filth churns your midst while your soul is at the bay of another shore.
And at bay it shall remain until the final call, when again you will stand.
Pouring the answers from the vessel that is your heart.
Of questions of which the answers are already known.
-
The truth evades us until we become prepared for it.
It will become a fact once we are ready to forgo the lies once and forever.
The chances for our breath to shun us when truth hits are high.
More so actually.
You are paralysed by the facts of life.-
My thoughts haunt my present.
They have ceased the entirety of my mind.
They hold me captive from myself.
The siege might never lift.
-
Blood roars in my ears, deafening me.
Your betrayal leaving a labyrinth of hollow viens ; bloodless.
Sweet memories trail behind unspeakable hideousness ; lies.
They charge at me, piercing my heart.
I saw the fragility in your heart not your calloused brain.-
When the tears cascading down from the eyes of someone close to you doesn't move you enough to close the gap of pride and embrace that person's pain then, my dearest, the decision of closing all the bridges to my heart from you is a fair one.
-
Memory of you keeps reeling in my mind,
stirring my leaden tongue.
I want answers of questions I can not ask.
Replies of sonnets never sung.
Did my silence wrought havoc as yours did?
-