Saturday, March 15, 2014
between the walls that I put up
and the trenches you dug
castles lost in the sand storm
built on hazy foundations
we tried to ignore the fraying threads.
it doesn't rain on our parade.
it drizzles, life goes on.
and pours. a torrent of thunderstorms
I wear microscopes
and on good days, binoculars
yours, sunglasses, tinted perhaps rose?
convex lenses, on blinkers
everything's alright.
almost fine.
somewhere in between
the two ends of this island
I've run out of gas
and you, out of patience.
delete.
and nothing
ever happened.
not like anything did anyway
—
wise words from someone, that hit home:
If I say that I love my wife
but she doesn't feel loved.
then have I loved her?
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
under covers
in my own land
I'm not tired
just exhausted by the hum drum
the strumming
and spinning
of the world
ceaseless,
in the half conscious moments
between somnolence
and the city lights
your imagined presence materialises beside me
as we ride off into the city of dreams
a circadian cycle on looped replay
but that's the only time
the million miles between us
shrinks into the air
and in the warmth of my own sheets
I can almost feel you here
Labels: (a short one, of her _____ to be free. when life pulls them apart in different directions, on how her days flash past in longing