Life, Written Softly

My heart ails for a word today

The sunset, the horizon, the city scape with all its business and banters

Rising high at the edge of my balcony

Makes my heart pine and my mind race.

There at the edge of all the rising and meandering jungle of concrete loneliness

Also stands the citadel of my heart break

The monument that resonates the pangs of the loss and lust

Every time I glance upon it a splinter juts through my veins tearing them apart.

I feel the rising gush of the blood in my body

A strange heat burning the back of my neck

A gurgle of hemlock twisting and turning in my gut

And the very sap of my life force starts trickling down my chin.

They say you must try, they say it does ease after a while

But they never say that you die a bit, everyday with it too

Bit by bit, cell by cell, breath after breath

It is the memories of your own precious recluse that now turn upon you…like the vicious Cobra

And you get bitten every day, every second of the day. 

And then when you stand on your balcony 

Staring in to the horizon hoping to glance upon a chance moment of peace

A rare moment of not feeling anything, just feeling hollow and numb…

There stands the glaring reminder of your heartbreak

The citadel that was once the seat of their secret celebration of love

The seat of his desertion of you, the citadel of your fading away into the darkness of forgetting.

The reminder of how you were no more even a shadow in the distance. 

What do you do then? How do you breathe …..

when the valve of your heart pleads to stop thrashing the blood in and out of your existence???

Life is a bloody prostitute … it seems to favour every time a glossier, richer customer comes along. 

And there you sit at the edge of the road wondering when did you go out of business. 

When did it all outdo the only trade you ever knew…how to love!