Forlorn Lover II

Love's a state of mind. It is sitting cold beside the one who makes your heart flutter and wishing you can run a stake through him. It is lying in bed with the one who makes you whole and feeling incomplete. It is giving a handshake and not a kiss. It is walking alone. With your companion, far behind.

unruffled

i stroke my teddy and ask

why is your face so pale
why do you not smile
you who do not  wear tragedy's pants
the sun scalds you not
you are not made wet by the
cloud's falling tears

here, you sit
all day,
unruffled
while breaths slip out of bodies
hearts hardened
by the incessant blows they receive

but you sit all day
unruffled
while dreams become ash

yet red is the colour of dreams
that flow out of men
with their eyes shut
and limbs lingering
like the poor cow's
at the butcher's

grey is the colour of ashes
that rise to the sky
from charred bodies and
lips that once laughed

ashes become cloud
cloud is heavy,
tainted
and weeps
like the charred bodies
alive in the classroom
and sulking, "i want my mummy"

but you sit all day
unruffled
while i'm deafened by this
strange noise
though distant,
it pierces me
how laughter becomes tears
screams liquidized
how blood flows freely free
than water

how they do not see the us in them just before they strike...

Forlorn Lover

I see you everywhere. I see your face on all paintings. You are in every song and even birds now tweet your name. Every prose tells our story and I hear your voice in the lines of all poetry.

So I pile these books and reduce them to debris. So now, I dread poetry and my pen flows not, in fear that it may, your name, write. You are the death of my Art.

Yet, you linger.

Tell me, how did you become Air?

#TheForlornLover

love not meant to be

what do you do with love not meant to be?

do you shove it back to the heart, its root

and let the rough spiky hairs pierce you

or vomit it out of your mouth and burn in a furnace?

do you leave it locked up in the bedroom

seeking liberation

and walk around, body like carcass

or do you carry it along

trudging from its weight and pain

tripping, rising, slogging?

would you rather live the love in faith

like the mustard seed

feign blindness and ignorance?

embrace its folly and just smile

even when your eyes harbour tears

and your stomach rumbles: this love is not yours

what do you do with love not meant to be?