Fold me in your palm and let me trace, the lines of sorrow on your immaculate face. Take me through dingy passages oppressed with ennui and the trampled streets of your threadbare existence. Move in closer as we drift in this half and half world between night and dawn, between slumber and wakefulness.Move in closer into this self sustaining moment …the tears lying in the parenthesis of my smile dry on your fingertips. It’s been a long December evening, protracted by trivialities that delineate the day. Nameless faces with strange underpinnings, short stubby fingers jangling change, feet shuffling around in pursuit of happiness while old newspapers and grimy leaves tangle about like dead remnants of days and seasons past.
But who would say that you and I are parts of that broken nondescript world if they saw us leaning against each other, shaking with silent laugher or quietly confiding about irrational fears… What do you think they would say?
“They would say that such artlessness isn’t to be encouraged…”
Monday, October 22, 2007
You and I
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Didn't quite get the meaning, but definitely a pleasant read.
"Let falling leaves not make a sound.
As peace prevails and night abound.
Intertwined in fingers frail....
A numbing softness love entail.....
One last time in your embrace....
Myself and Death stand face to face."
You really write well !!! keep blogging !
Ironic how artless things they would not encourage are the building blocks of art itself.
Post a Comment