Monday, April 25, 2011

The Irony of Love

He advances towards her with heavy steps that evoke no motion in the sand beneath his bare feet. The urge to burst out and evaporate into the air now abandons him; it’s hurt so much it doesn’t hurt any more.
   She sits two footsteps away from where the waves hit the shore. Her eyes flash to the sky. An eternity ago, she could tell time by the position of moon; now, though, everything stands transfixed.
   As their two haggard entities intertwine, they feel it digging its way through the holes between them and a dream-like past, it crashes them and yet binds them together; and as they hear its sinister silence lurking beneath their tears, it becomes impossible to elude…they have inhaled all the glow love had, and now, it is time to be burnt by the fire.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

To you who is no longer there

I will fight all that's tempting me to be poetic, and I"ll catch words as they come.
  I try to imagine how things would be like if caught by a camera. I shut my eyes and paint everything in sepia. And when the world fades to black and white, I wish for colors resurrecting it. But at times, when soul breathes into life, I find myself crashing within the tempests it evokes.
  And I envy the characters in movies; free from existence, but in their folds, you can see all the tiny complexities of how it is to be alive. It's then when I weave myself into one.
  I just need to tell you..there is nothing intricate to me; draw a line between a million drop of rain with a black pen and I will be the image glittering behind your eyelids.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Scene Zero

Behind a screen
Of red green blue
She is entrapped
And breaks
As luster abandons
Her eyes once so luminous

And before him
She stands
In a white paper
Suffused with her
Painted in
Colors quite different

Between never and forever
Both dance
And tear off the heavy
Garments of now
But the curtain has
To eventually fall
And instead of the end
It’s written  
That to love
There is no moral lesson

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

In The Nonexistence

In the morning
Sometimes it’s just
Too hard to breathe
Your porcelain skin
Not two inches away
And I can’t reach out to
Touch it
Touch you
In the nonexistence
I run

But I can't elude

That everything you mean to me

Is always  meant to be