The spiral descends to this endless ponder;
Will the rays escape this ajar door ever, I wonder.
For when they do I’ll let the light blind me,
raise no hand for protecting these eyelets,
that have surely seen it all; or so i pense.
Tuning the knob as the grit grasps me,
icily groping the beating heart;
I shall open the door to liberty, atlast.
Contemplating on an imaginary you, I stare out the window, eloquence at its finest. A cinch it may be to spot the imperfections on this common face; but the reason behind them, lies buried deep in the mystery, held alone within themselves. Letting my guard down is an easy way out; making things unburdensome for you, or so I think. Exposing the vulnerability within is the last thing I would do at such a moment, a moment whereth is decided of what strength do I possess, and how long does it endure….
The last 48 hours have been a difficult journey; a compilation of times that are prayed for to not occur, the incidents we watch happening to others and console; assuring ourselves within, that nothing of the sorts is to happen to us, and should such transpire, we’ll take care ourselves and will be back to good health in no time; yet, when the misfortune strikes, it wipes off every trace of wisdom that is held; misery spills all over us, just the way black paint slowly yet suavely fills the clear, transparent grail of liquid with its fine, almost picturesque darkness; silent screams and wailing beats, both of which are scarcely suppressed yet heard by none.
Quotes heard in childhood, of pain being understood only by the one who bears it, suddenly limits itself not just to the pain of cuts and bruises; but to an ocean of unfamiliar and unsung emotions. Emotions often spectated, seldom felt.
Contemplating on an imaginary you, I stare out the window, eloquence at its finest. The light that lights my eyes, has dimmed; yet they shine, due to the tears that glimmer on the surface; ready to roll down on my skin, once so warm because of your touch…
You wouldn’t wipe them off neither would I let you, I want them to flow, I want this pain; this melancholy and distress I’ve only heard of; never perceived upon.
As the despise and peril accumulates with illusive flashbacks of the plight that has bestowed upon me, a glimmering drop of salty essence dawns and sets almost instantaneously, wetting the masks of strength worn moments ago, wearing them off; drop by drop. The starlight erodes these fake walls of endurance, letting the thick droplets of remorse, regret and hurt escape, wounding and crippling as they trickle down…
Contemplating on this fascinating sight,
The silence as strong as willow,
Sparkling as hope and faith possibly can,
This silent symphony so mellow.
I’m sorry:’)
