We could have been mistaken A married couple Cruising the world In style If only no one pulled the trigger And shot Cupid in the eye
We could have been Honeymooners in Maldives Sunbathing, Stargazing, Barenaked in the sand Yet, here we are Writing poems about bullets and graveyards As if the pristine sky Has gone mad
I know a dream Could end so soon Before you figure out what's going on, And the clock would stop ticking Dragging the labored whiffs of dawn
In places where the sun has failed to visit I'm a broken memory of a leaf Stitching flimsy patterns, The fragments of my swollen mistakes, No one told me What once made your toes curl In time could turn to dust, For all along I thought that love would last forever, But, oh well, I was wrong.
i. The rain is falling On silent meadows A cascade of silver tears Spilling from the fringes Of the blue horizon
But the sky only visits me in my dreams Telling me
ii. Your smile is a lie, A portal of bleeding gums, Hiding crumbs of sadness Between bites of soft memories And sips of cozy mornings
iii. Two lovers found a sweet escape In the eyelashes of a Forget Me Not But alas! it was all a dream, A fading song's haunting refrain
Through the looking glass
iv. Her eyes look like unheard stories Telling and retelling Once-Upon-a-Times Counting gasps In the mood of Oh-My-Gods
v. When flowers bloom at The first kiss of spring She sits on the shoulders of farewells Awaiting the sky to Unfurl the petals of a new dawn Subduing the blues of a withering sunset Alongside the steady rhythm Of April refrain.
The mirrors in my house speak in french teacups and wine goblets gossip about a budding romance carried by the laughing wind.
Vases filled with love potions swoon at the sight of the silver moon dressed in vintage silk, mysterious like a lady in red peeking behind the clouds, smiling like Monalisa, her dewy eyes conceal the bottled secrets of the seductive night.
Tulips blush and sigh under the satin blanket of the sanguine skies when the mighty sun arrives in a chariot of dawns and his majesty sets the horizon in orange flames initiating the bewitching betrothal of the virgin stars and royal constellations.
You look like a dream Walking barefoot Under the midnight sun And the earth trembles Like a mad heart trapped Inside a paper ribcage, Skies blush and swoon And stars fall on your feet Following you around like fireflies Infatuated with the sound Of a beating silence
You look like an angel in disguise But I beg your pardon, Aren't you a genie in a bottle Whispering webbed moonlights?
Your name, The religion of my heart The indigo truth I write In the palms of forever And it feels like a sin To wrap my fingers Around the veils of your smile
My heart sings The silver symphony Of the nightingale Growing a garden in my chest Where the bees are praying From moonrise to sunrise
You walk like a dream In the aisles of broken solar eclipses Fireflies follow you around Worshipping the dewy holy ground, And flowers sigh out loud Wishing the night never ends As the sun steals the moon A good night kiss When dawn walks in Dreamy under your spell.
How the mirror changes Its mood At every stolen glance And extends its fingers To an imaginary ceiling Pretending It's a hologram sky Where the rain washes away The footprints of grief And rewrites tears and suicidal thoughts Into lyrics of a mermaid song
How a heartbeat mimics The delicate footsteps Of a virgin kiss As if being shy is as natural As sunkissed blush Tucked in blooming sunsets
How the hymn of the wind Teaches the leaves The secrets Of not breaking When dancing and swaying To Bohemian rhapsody
And when the shores Persuade the waves to kiss and make up At the faint crack of a sleepy dawn
I love How the sky Splits open Into thumbnails of wishful thinking When a storm leaves.
A night like this, And thoughts of him wiggle it's way to me. He was Adam, And I, his Eve And leaves are to branches, Just as hearts are to ribcages, Together we ruled Eden, On a summer that flowered like petunias on a young lass' cheeks, On vows of tomorrows sealed tight in lockets we wore on our hearts.
But summer joys are ephemeral dreams, Like lit candles conceding defeat before angry winds, And forever flails blind, a foundling trapped in web of regrets. Love today mourns, and sings a requiem inside a grave he dug with bare hands. We now misspell each other's names.
So now I raise a toast to Naivety and smile, Because I once thought love was forever but I was wrong.
It always starts with the street lights. Almost. If you care to look up and beyond, you'll find them zipping by, on an empty road. It reminds me of a fleeting freedom. Always. I've found it difficult to love in bits and pieces. Not just the romantic love with the red roses, bright blushes and crispier lies, that is. The love we recieved was often an insurmountable tide, flooding everything it bothered to touch. There was this one instance where my heart skipped a few beats and pumped a little harder than it should. Stop. The love we gave back was a thing of it's own. It was the gentle roast of the winter sun, leaving but a mere tingle on your skin. The waves that foamed in our eyes, merely licked at the barefeet of someone foolish enough to step in. But people do step in. They wait for that flood, they brace for too much. Awaiting. Whatever trickle leaves the cold furnaces of our hearts is savoured like a delicacy. Not for too long. They fed us in mad bouts. Refreshing. We served back sparsely. It tires a man's soul. A woman's too, for that matter. Disheartening? Perhaps. I hope that there are more fools like me, of this nature at the least. Sometimes I can hear you, wishing, dreaming and lost in your fantasy. I wonder if I can hear you in the real too.