Think.

Quite strange it is
For that which makes us
top of the food chain
one of its kind
king of the world
is also what takes
from us the very ability
to be what we can be
should be
could be.

To think
that thoughts are what make us
and those thoughts then break us
into tiny pieces of fragmented glass
shedding blood of those we once loved

even as they walk away
leaving crimson footprints
on our hearts.

Substitute

To

The man who will never admit I was one.

:)

*

Heard your laughter

After a long time today

I had

Almost

Forgotten the sound of it.

The sound

That once used to

Drive me crazy

Still does, like it did today

But alas,

She brings out the best in you now

And I’m reduced

To shadows

Forced to watch

Mute, helpless

Even as you slip away

Slowly…

I see you go

And never turn back.

Perhaps the pain

Would be less

Had it been just you

But she’s in the picture too

And the pain I feel is a different kind of pain.

(Written on October 31st, 2009, everything in this poem proved a prophecy of sorts and came true on January 29th, 2011.)

Ode to sleep

Saucy mistress, she!

Enticing and tempting me so

With gentle, merry, mellifluous dreams

And Keats’ things of beauty-

The young tree, mid-forest brake and streams

Saucy mistress, she

Liar! The embodiment of deceit!

The slightest commotion and away she fled

The dreams, the peace, all woebegone

Left – the death grip of unrest and dread

I waited, with baited

Breath, I waited. Familiar with the gloom

Her virgin embrace I seeked, and wept.

Called out to the Gods, my beloved, the mistress

It must have worked! Because finally, I slept!