Its still
Coz i m still
Stirring my limbs reminds me of u
Introspecting takes me back to where it had all begun,
Breathing in reminds me of the depth
That is so reminiscent of you
That absence you proudly wear on your sleeve,
Your scarcity,
Which, for some strange and undeciphered reason,
Is adorned by cosmoses,
While that of mine,
Resembles its dark epiphany,
Where the stars are so far apart,
That I don’t wish to become one myself,
Fearing, it would end my existence,
And, even more so, Yours…
I wish not to voice,
Uttering brings back your baritone,
Which mysteriously,
Uncharacteristically,
Was so at peace with tenderness,
Not unlike a sparkling star sapphire,
Amidst a pool of red-blood wine,
Adorning it and repulsing it,
That unprecedented high I miss…
I won’t pray those days came back,
I have spent a lot of myself over them,
All in vain.
Apart you were not,
Even when you structured out ways to be so,
I could never bring myself upon believing,
The parting would be this abrupt,
Snatching away my rights to swoon,
Over something this prized…
I show not a heaving heart,
But a choked trachea,
Brimming with nausea,
And not a poignant shack of memoirs…
Cards of the castle have neatly been stacked,
The walls have all been repainted,
With colors of the present,
The garden rake replaced by a gardener,
Who pointedly does not hum,
Odors, not scents, of you I have burnt,
Warded them I have with hurriedly arranged smokes…
Emanated from the pyre of my morrow,
Sleepless nights I spend not,
That charisma too has subsided now,
So shall you ever come back,
to find nothing that was your own,
you shall find me.
Just once in the past, u bespoke,
The toughness of letting go..
Strangely enough I feel it not,
strangely enough its easy enough,
to let you go,
I know had you been ‘ere,
You shall say, the gravity I have failed to grasp,
Truly saying, its not true.
and strangely enough I feel its true…
