Posted: August 2, 2014 in Melancholia


Vanity explains itself in the movement of water
Slowly passing away, slowly coming on.
I stand at the river bank: Without hopes of making any withdrawals.

I am nervous…

I wait impatiently, Randomly searching my train of thought
For words whose meaning never die,
My mind arouses truth,
I sluggishly admit that I cannot imagine this,
“Because the rhapsody and poem in my mind is music at its least”.

I hit the play button,
Suspense began to whistle,
A minute… Two… Three, pass
I follow the silence in hopes that it will pass.

The first sight that burned was an absence of disorder.. Everything was in place: I had earlier fiddled through the arrangements…Placed an I in sight, And left reflections for the night.

It was 2:39 am, Clearly it was starting to dawn on me, I raise the sheets and slide in.
Regret makes our pillows softer, I draw the sheets closer and cuddled with her.
I am reaping seeds of a colder her, Seeds that I did sow, Lost in translation, where did my sunshine go?

Our prejudices sometimes influence our preferences..
And as far as familiarity goes,
Friends will always play foes.
I hate this hate, this induced distance and the hope for fate
A desire for togetherness.
And the want of being alone.

Buses grumble by in this train of thought and I hear a Passenger asking why I let her go, stones stepped on cause much more pain for smaller feet, the Irony insults the Metaphor
the things you stomach the most never let’s you shit.


  1. Aventuяine says:

    *sighs* The Passenger tho, poetry with a melody!!!


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