Where is sadness?
Dancing among the mahogony
Refusing to be the taste between your lips?
The wry nights and flickering lights,
Making it disapper into the the embrace,
He is wrapping tightly around you.
You close your eyes,
And feel the darkness on your skin,
Making you warm and talking in whispers.
“Is it the sadness? “
You wonder in between his breaths,
And gulping the reasons you refuse.
The ink stains of fear,
Diffuse into the solitary moonlight,
Flooding and consuming through the fall.
Heavy eyelids, and a inflated heart,
Making you restless from within,
Until you hear the beating of the solace.
One beat, two beat, three beat,
And on and on it goes.
Until love escapes from the parted,
Lips, quiver in hallucinations,
As you fall more and more into the darkness,
Breathing in his tranquility.
©Jumbled Letters 2019.
Follow on Instagram: @jumbled__letters
Follow me on twitter: @imamartya23
Private account on Instagram: @___vision__
I am all ears.
Listening to the wind — time in disguise, running through the shapes of my body, to my lower abdomen from in between the legs to the foot, until the feel disappears but the sensation prevails. Time has always been the caped crusader doing justice at night, when you lie awake on your bed staring at the ceiling running through your emptiness searching for the moment that has passed by. Continue reading “Mind Games”
What is uncertainty?
Continue reading “What is uncertainty?”
Waking up every night,
To check if you are alive?
Silence reigns, Continue reading “Formless Grey”
Withered with unprecedented hopes,
Crumbles like dust on a hopeless day.
Continue reading “Death Knell”
In the Icebox.
Like a comet that falls below,
In the endless I shatter.
You are eclipsed with the formless grey,
Continue reading “Partial Eclipse”
Inhaling anticipations through senses,
You exhale the poison from your deflated lungs—
The parasite that seeks the truth.
Wreathing in pain without its magical potion,
The blinding light, a luminescence higher,
Where you stray from the roads
Less traveled into the barren.
Throats dry with stale,
Taste of delusional hunger,
Lingers on your mouth like oasis.
The last day, of another year.
365 days to be exact. And somehow, the six hours extra dies just like a star in the lone universe.
Continue reading “The First Day”