Monday, April 14, 2014
The downpour seem to have an intimation
Of romance implicit and artless
That has been consistently thriving in her since yesterday
Though it’s only a revival of an existing bondage
Its face felt anew-
May be out of the sensation of being lost-
By his absence- distance and missing
It may be the lack of ceremony of making him tea
Or simply he is either not there, or not palpable.
It remind her of a painted figure-in low key
Dissolving into the background
Slipping into abstract
And there is only rain outside
And only rain.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
The lost patterns of rumination found itself
Right at the edge of his joyous flood.
It’s been only like bliss interim
Later points razor sharp towards the hollowness.
It’s been like the pressed eraser-
-Waiting to be accelerated
To dwindle the defining lines
Bordering the sane – insane-
That the delicacy of his unresolved pains
Proved by a turbulence least imagined.
The strangeness of the mind less contemplated
Amidst all accusations and antipathies.