Moving on (a repost)

Blinding and brilliant, love at first sight
takes much longer to lose than you think it might.

It’s not the memories, the agony or the remorse,
what kills you is the resistance,
and the indolence,
of a languid heart that you blame,
but deep down you know it’s the brain,
that is always reluctant to indulge in refrain.

To enjoy the pleasure of hellos,
you know, one must go through parting.

But when subtle differences
take the shape of unassailable chasms,
and you see the futility of explaining,
what you feel is not what they call pain,
but is a gnawing, indifferent aching.

Sarcasm is fluid in this state of mind,
making you wince at the sound of laughter.
They say you have become silent,
while the myriad voices inside you scream –
regret and apology never go hand in hand,
or that you need bravado or courage to take a stand.


Drops of darkness

These drops of darkness
that you mix with your smile,
stirring the bitter coffee in the morning,
when you meet people you don’t like,
people who you keep searching,
as you stare beyond the space that fills me.

Have those drops congealed
over your skin, into black layers,
as on the tree that stands alone,
a spirit untrammeled,
in the desolate moor,
and in the emptiness that fills me.

You may stand tall,
stretching high as if forever,
but I see through the drops of darkness
in your eyes which petrify
anyone who shows interest,
for I don’t seek their love, or approval,
and I know you want me to taste the shade
of the shadow you refuse to cast on me.

But then in the moonlit night,
I see you romance
the rivers of milky white,
shining in cadence without a care,
about the the drops of darkness
that slowly fill your leaping heart,
and I wait, feeling the romance,
when tired and in pain the next morning,
the heart that you will again give to me.


Reminisce those moments

the plucked flowers,
those grains of sand
playfully suspended,
on glassy moments
and stitched together
with fibrous talks,
a patchwork life.

the ebony hair,
flicks of arrogance
creating flimsy meshes
on sassy moments,
and put together
with stillborn arguments,
a convoluted story.

the creeping smile,
a concealed bliss
among the roaring laughs,
and shreds of tears
blended together
into feisty moments,
a melancholic love.

the pain of glory,
a remorse debilitating
among cheers and jubilation,
and soaring ambitions
amalgamated into
an unending journey,
a mirage of age.

the peaceful feeling,
threads pulled
from ragged dreams,
and needles of wisdom
worked together
into the stalled moments,
a final respite.