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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required No I don't, Talk about you anymore; I don't see you too, I've no cogent reason either; For such ludicrous capers of mine. Coz if I did, I know I'd whisper only your name On all forevers; That'd come and go. I still watch you scream out Your lungs, for her. I still watch you bleed Your ruptured veins for her. I know not still, what to say; I can't call out too Your name, no - From my lips, I can't Utter the word, Those seven letters form.. My eyes are red, My lips cracked. My throat is dry Yet I can't gulp down; The red wine you serve Alongside your words Seared on a brazier; yet Since day one of your advent. With my thoughts I lay Toss and turn on the bed. I've become a night owl Waiting not for you, But for the insomnia To die down for the night; So I can lament over Your verses anew, The very next day. You fill some good pages With your blue ink, That still smells of her. The dust coated books In your closet of poesy; Looks nothing but an old frame, Alluring but derisive, Built from the revered timber; Excised from my heart. Maybe I'm just going porangi I know not what to call it. There's nothing I can do Nor do I want to either. For I can always suffice One way or the other. Sometimes the raindrops Sometimes the metaphors Bring me your love. Like a praxis that becomes- More puissant with every passing, I cling onto this epiphany, Hoping one fine day; You'll come and say- " I knew it all along " " I knew it all along " ..
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