You took turns in glancing at photographs,
And marvel at crooked lines and wry chortles
Diamonds pealed from the sky, like laughter
From an infant’s soft, composed mouth
From pictures adorned with dust,
From lies and disdain filtered by rust
-
There will be a place where the lime
Across the veneer of the atmosphere
Would land on the clouds, far from one’s reach
You would cry, scowl upon the world
And how fate must have played a trick on you
Because as farce as it may seem,
You’ve cast the trick on yourself.
-
The mirrors were lying,
As they flashed a maiden
Behind a veil, glinting, flustering
An ornate smile, now turned ostensibly wrong
In a few words we were saying everything,
And in a swift moment – hastier than the crisp breeze,
You were leaving.
-
And thieves come past the doors
To remind you of the things that you have lost,
Laconic affair strewn pretty loosely
So as to wear off in a few years time,
Where the days ran off into the woods, beguiled
Never to return again, I am marred in the night’s peculiar voice
-
This will be the day that we will be
Deciphering everything, decoding every quizzical stare
We will be resenting every woman, every man
That we can never have,
For fate is as cruel as the tempest at night
Or if fate is real, then it must have been obsolete
By the time people knew how to love.
-
In one more year you cut your hair,
Change your clothes and alter your scent
And you convince yourself in barren rooms
And headless crowds that you are different,
That you have transformed into something new
Only to recognize that you have a stranger hue,
Nothing that I ever knew.
-
So the moribund heart on furlough,
Has been enduring tender fields of snow,
With snowflakes dissipating, creating identities
Across willow trees and petrified brooks
In the winter, I am here.
I am here.
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