In the darkest hearth of my soul
It rears it’s ugly head again
This despondency of
Being different;
Burning realms of loneliness
Engulf me in flames
I blister, bleed;
Sweat, tears of memories
Deeply impressed lies
Like an intricately coiled
Venomous snake in my bed!
It will not hurt
What you don’t know?
Truth wrapped in muslin
Pulsates gently
Waiting to birth
To sound the death knell
Of sweet ignorance
Blissful innocence
As the soul soaks in
Lies and tales
Appeasing the mind
But stealing the heart
Of the pure joy of knowing!
You are the book
Nestled on my chest
Heaving in deep sleep
A story embedded
In my thoughts, as I go
About daily chores
Impatient to trace
Inquisitive finger tips
On gravely carved scripts
Turning over pages
Revealing secrets
That made me shudder
In anticipation of none other
But the distant momen when
I will curl up with you in bed
Shameless dreams spill
Sprinting over a window sill
Plucked from my eyelids
By naughty night angels
Who revel at my expense
Chuckle with exuberance
At how innocently I believe
In visions true only in sleep!
Regrets, conflicts, defects
From the mirror life reflects
Images of what was
Shadows of what wasn’t
Reminder of what can be
Fate plays on fleeting reels
Surreal spectres, unreal dreams
Blue Pen Strokes 