Rifhan Miller Poems

“As for me, I’m watercolour. I wash off”
So remove this canvas, once over, twice over
I am a pretty picture, a four leaf clover
Peripatetic in the wind: you seize it, and then you release it,
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I know a bubble boy,
I knew the boy before I got acquainted to his bubble.
He gave me a hug and smile
And then a bubble
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Someone once told me
That I’m some beauty queen
He couldn’t figure why
But he couldn’t take his eyes off my gaze and smile.
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I have a map/ it rests next to my cell.
A large map/ a dormant cell
With continents I’ve visited, tasted, touched.
Vast seas aplenty I’ve sailed away on
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When the sun hits
It feels like walking into a brick wall
Sometimes being led out of darkness is not a good thing.
I still don’t see any better now than before;
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“As empty vessels make the loudest sound”,
“So they that have the least wit are the greatest blabbers”

Words are meaningless – Like a temporary tattoo;
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You should know, I’ve only loved with my head
Even though my heart has ached with yearning
My heart: It was never an open book
I wrote what only looked good for reading.
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A journey shouldn’t be taken alone, though the ride is yours only
Sometimes you lose sight and slip away
Sometimes you seek help, then steer your own
When you jump to the next car, you can’t wrestle both wheels.
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Two sides of a page never co-exist, and won’t convene
Though the front’s all you’ve seen.
Its intentional ink blots and lipstick stains are obscured,
Its integrity smeared and blemished.
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It's midnight: 9th of June.
I am dreaming of a holiday,
Lacking your baggage clutched to my left waist.
Lying on a single bed,
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