Another name on the list.
One more heart amiss.
Scathingly, to false sorrow you admit,
for parting only brings new tomorrows.
I can fathom not what you think.
Is your mind the master of its will?
Deeply besotted in your ways,
saturation leaves me disheartened.
Somewhere deeply imprinted inside,
a scar that you may’nt identify;
The only proof that you were here.
Memories can be doctored,
all evidences tampered,
but this fail-safe method,
the fit of your words to my own,
Assails any shallow sense of victory.
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4 comments:
You sound like a very complicated person, even though you don't look one ! :)
mystery man
My hands reek of oil and turpentine,
And colors of life splashed all over my scrubbed face.
Every day break I struggle with the paint and the canvas.
Pour out my passion on a piece of cloth with colours of my emotions.
And when the sun goes down,
I drag my beauties to the bazzar, where I sit like a begger,
And people throw a few chunks of gold in exchange,
Of labour of my love.
I greedily pick up the shining coins,
And seek solace in the shade of the nearest tavern.
And this is what I find.
Alas! I sold my passion,
Just for a cup of wine!
Another day rises,
And I pick up my brush,
Dip it in a mix of my sweat, tears and blood.
And start the dance of life once again.
mystery man: thanks for the mysteriousness. adds some intrigue...LOL!
Anonyomous 2: that's simply breath-taking. do you write regularly?
Not regularly,
Only when in dark deep nights,
It rains, Opens old wounds,
And Fresh pains.
I wake up, as if from a dream,
Face to face with my sorrow,
Fearing impending doom,
I scream,
Not regularly..
Anonymous 2
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