Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Words

they come crumbling off the pages
spilling more than what I can hold
forming puddles of reflected light
that splash out into the receding memory
of your flight.

leave no trace in the wind, nor in the
breath of the lover left to revel in his
all too heart wrenching, solitary existence
bereft of encircling arms and comforting hollows
of warm flesh, that could speak to him in even
the deepest sleep of the darkest nights.

come unasked for, like you. A pulse that quickens
with every premeditated typographic flourish of
your everyday babble, can only take me so far as the edge.
And then there's a slight push, that comes gently
from a gaze that flickers with the afterglow of electric
backlight, that I can't see but imagine, till it awakens
a response.

possess moments with startling vengeance, hiding
them from us in layers of glorious, seductive, infinitely
murky possibilities and we succumb like the
house of cards we are, destined to grovel
at their feet until we may utter them no more.



2 comments:

pure said...

so concise

Nikita Banerjee said...

Gosh you are saying so many things in such few words! Reminds me of Orwell's 1984 somehow.