A cigarette clamps between trembling fingers
Two cigarette smoked

A melody, absence of instruments;
a choir of tears
Dampened love letters
Dusty isolated special tokens
Mosaic fragments to a torn picture
Formulated reasons
The colony of hurt
The disputes turned absurb
A transformation impossible
Her honeyed promises, waverable

A train of song tracks
A string of thoughts since two years back
An aged picture, yellowed
Two shattered escapists, tired and mellow
Shrills of insecurity
Grievous deeds of impurity

Prendre et casser

The stars on display in the vast open above quietly glistened their purpose. A thousand smiles, evergreen moments under exquisite nightfall. A sincere smile, in the garden of genuine tranquil. A fateful night. when moonlight represents serenity, and a wholesome silence harps music to the heart. The joyous lit their lights as we gazed at them flicker to the music and muse of our hearts. Toasting with glasses of wine between interlocked arms, to a tomorrow more beautiful than today.

See right through me.

Confusion sprawls onto metaphors, while the words splatter against blackened conscience. The mind loses its ability to rummage away mixed emotions. The head stumbles upon swirling of several circumstances, but all that rings within are thuds of evasion.

For hours, she waited by intently, for the voice of comfort. She anticipated, till it was time to dream of the strange and beautiful, again.

She stared blankly into the liquor that cascaded into the glass flute. The spinning in her head throbbed and the pain started vibrating within her thoughts. The minuscule amount of booze increasingly became drowning confusion. The state of disorientation consumed her consciousness as she repeatedly refilled the glass. Myriads of hallucination administrated her sanity, leaving her in bouts of sobs and eccentric yarps of uncertain joy. Alcohol, her only company.

A heart she gave to several cherished ones, a love commited into perception; to belong to suburbs of humanity. A hand she took, the fingers she slipped past, the clench that freely loosened.

Another lonely Sunday this is.

Two in the bask of sheer bliss
Two, back stronger in one piece
Two entwined in a sacred spot
Two crooning to their favourite song
Two, unconscious in slumber, on each they rest
Two on escapades in fantasical fests
Two spinning on a carousel,
Two, one hero one damsel
Two bound by a knot that tightens over time
Two that fights every scratch and grime

Two involved in an affair so true
Two, are me and you.

Selfish prys into inner cuts
Fresh excruciate for the aching heart
A concoction brewed from confusion
Paddles thoughts into devastation
Deceit penetrates beneath the skin
Everyday's common facade could still be seen
A love dipped in anaesthetic
From the tragic crash and hit
The incessant battering and hurling at
How difficult loving is becoming to get

The simplest of its form
Left in shambles of forlorn
Vows made always kept dear
Love made never obliged to fear

Finale of a pen-down
In prayers we don't forget to cast away frowns
May the lonely nights meet day
May the cause of tears never replace
Within the purest of pain in these blues,
I have always remembered,
I missed you.

The long and winding path appears to engulf the footsteps that will lead her back Home. The steps she trudge forward to, stretch a hundred torturous miles. Uncertainty afilled, the hole she stands in eats on the light that paves the journey back out.

A sore heart, and none to outstretch healing hands. Cloud-eyed, with no cloth to wipe them dry. A confused problematic, with no solutions.

A blinding snow-white sheet warps the mind. As much as she wishes to slice the canvas apart to enable clearer vision, fatigue is constantly on the guard to slay her down. Too much tiredness, overpowering spaces unfilled, hollow sadness. How she wants to let hopeful souls down, how she dwells on what-ifs. Neverending is the non-directional narrow path. The only detour is turning back.

What is wrong?

No. What is ever correct? The angst that souls are banished to hell for human nature, karma in Christianity, gypsies casting future in crystal balls.

I'm questioning God. I think I'm growing to be quite an atheist.

She tries elegantly to tap her cigarette to rid off excess ash, masking her fidgeting. Smoke clouded her mind, fogging sanity. The constant refill of nicotine dosage was the only aversion she could apply.

I cannot fathom the outcome of my dreams, those haunting dreams that daunt upon slumber. I cannot imagine a day, when all that remains beside me are sheets of bed and lingering memories.