It’s inexplicable.
No words ever written can do it justice.
No poem can make it rhyme.
The coarse journey.
The blatant trial.
Nothing a metaphor worth a dime.
Agony lived.
Sour felt.
Warmth endured.
Silence dwelt.
All in the name of the hate after love.
Go ahead pen your story. Tear it up. Write it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Until the past pours out from your very being.
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And as you lay there, writhing and shivering and kicking and screaming, I’d hold you close, I’d push the hair out of your eyes, of your screaming agape mouth..in hopes, you let the past pour out from your very being. (Sorry, could not resist writing this for you)
Beautiful.
March 16, 2013 at 11:23 am
Rajeev this is beautiful. It means a lot. Thank you. 🙂
March 16, 2013 at 11:28 am
You are my inhalation, I own few web logs and often run out from post :). “Yet do I fear thy nature It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness.” by William Shakespeare.
March 22, 2013 at 4:57 am