I thought I’d survive without you
But I couldn’t say goodbye
For the words lay tangled
At your doorstep
Afraid to cross the threshold
Into a life where you
Would not be waiting
At sundown, by the yellow lamp
A book in hand, the kettle whistling
Eager to tell and know
Of just another mundane day
Darkness, in your embrace
I shed all my worldly woes
Like the skin of a snake
For you, my wounded healer
Whisper to me of spells
From the bowels of hell.
Goodness is long dead
To survive the death knell
You entreat me to beckon
Pettiness, slithering slyness
Throbbing deep within, now
Spilling on to slippery slopes.
Clutch on to the last straws
Don a mask and carry on
For in life only those thrive
Who enjoy the masquerade.
Don’t be a stranger
To the voices within
For they hold reflections
Of your deepest sins.
Hear them out
When they proclaim
The path to be free
Of the guilt and pain,
To claim absolution
In knowing the truth
That you are only human
When you slip and fail!
Fire and flow of buried emotions
I had commanded to lie still
Gulping down anger
Silencing the rage
I waited time to heal;
They gurgle wildly
In gorges of the heart
Streaming in deadly cascade
Burning lava from hell
Surging from the gallows
All the venom I had held!
The quiet I usually crave
Patiently waits for me
At the corner of my bed
A pillow carries perfume
Of freshly washed hair
Mildly stained sweet sweat
Of long summer nights
Wrinkled sheets beckon
Hiding a half-open book
And a peeping bookmark hints
It may well be time to rest
The quiet I usually crave
Patiently waits for me
At the corner of my bed
Pillows carry perfume
Of freshly washed hair
Mildly stained with sweat
Of long summer nights;
Wrinkled sheets beckon
Hiding a half-open book
A peeping bookmark hints
It may well be time to rest
Blue Pen Strokes 