in all of her sins.

I remember those days,

 when I used to hold her in arms.

this fragile flower,

 surrendering her eyes,

 to my heart.




yet in truth,

 we were really worlds apart.

the mind how it tricks,

 the most sweetest of loves.




and doubt becomes the general,

 that crushes the soul.

unable to picture our romance,

 ever growing old.




at the embryonic stage,

 of every relationship.

is a power you believe,

 will resist any struggle.




those were the days,

 where love was blind,

and guidance was lacking.




if time could be reversed, 

my name would be,

 first on that list.




as I walk,

 through the city.

I feel the wind cutting my skin.



Mother nature,

 has a way,

of inflicting,

 the most minor of pains.




we would walk,

 along the river bed.

the birds reciting their hymns.




I would fall back,

 to admire this beauty,

 in all of her sins.

 

Advertisements

winter sun

trees bemoan the season of autumn.



every time,

 it comes around.

a part of its existence,

 falls to the ground.



leaves it vulnerable, 

cold and dazed.

like a broken soul,

when the heart breaks.



slowly as,

 the seasons change.

the tree begins,

 to breathe again.



so when you're left,

 exposed by love.



remember the naked tree,

 in the winter sun.

Metropolis Nights.

I remember,

walking into a shadowy,

 metropolis bar.


Along the capital’s veins.

 Where fluorescent lights, 

they flickered, 

like a rainbows beating heart. 



The jazzy blue.

The marvel green.

The impassioned red.



Decorating,

 the revellers,

crescent faces.



Separated,

 by the charcoaled darkness, 

and coloured beams. 



On the faces,

 of empowered youth.

Nonchalant eyes, 

they wandered. 

Through the flow,

 of cosmic sound.



 I made my way, 

past vibrant bodies.

Whom the music had possessed,

in desire. 

Neglecting the musical twitch, 

conquering my own.



The embittered gin, 

introducing itself.

 To the state of the mind.



As I caught a glimpse of her face,

for the very first time. 



Her sclera, 

overshadowing, 

the dark essence,

 of her iris and her pupil.



A panther,

 in her elegance.

 Ruled by mystique, 

and by fire. 



With a royal confidence, 

she approached.

In Mediterranean voice, 

she whispered a sensual verse, 

close to my ear.



 Death black curls,

 thicker than rope.

 Strawberry lips.

Enriched,

to capture the eye.

Of anyone,

 who sought to gaze,

 at her regal stature. 



For is this not what this world, 

it seeks? 

A night of lust? 

A voice to speak? 

Exploration's through, 

foreign bodies and beds? 



To immerse in pleasure? 

To immerse in pleasure? 

until death.

ignis

she would stay awake for hours,

waiting for him to arrive.

to a plate of cold salmon,

and a bitter warm wine.


the mascara on her cheeks,

portrayed the scars,

 of a soul,

that became accustomed to lies.


long, 

cold,

 winter nights.

accompanied by romantic comedies,

and warm cups of chai.



deep down,

she knew,

he was the devil in disguise.


sat on a leather chair.

by the fire-place.

with a cuban cigar,

 in his hand.


her bloodied heart,

 in his mouth.

indulging,

 in the only thing,

that made her feel alive.


for her mind,

 was tied to a world,

that cries out,

 for the heart to defy.



To let love,

 disintegrate.

To embrace,

 its demise.


as she stared,

 into his mesmerising,

 hazel eyes.


she could see an angel,

 fighting,

 to break out.



the demon resisted,

working over-time.

to deny her,

 the freedom to love,

to feel his sensual touch.


the imprisoned angel,

 remains in shackles,

behind his devious eyes.


and whenever she stares into them,

she falls,

 deeper in love,

 with the demon.

whom is guarding the divine.

perished art.

unbeknown,

to the destiny of ways.

two souls,

part.

down roads,

never made.



the lavender night,

in its implacable essence.

greets two lovers,

on the border,

between separate paths.



her weighted head,

rests,

against his tiring shoulders.

in silence they breathe,

as the commotion,

of the city fades.



if only they could see,

their own reflection.

in the winter's haze,

by towers of glass.



see how their bodies mould,

into inconceivable art.

Maybe then,

would their hearts,

conceive intention.



a modern tale,

where romance withers.

with no resistance,

from either side.



they make their way,

down different roads.



too endless,

and alien.

for both their sights.

two birds.

On the white palette,

of the virgin sky.

Two birds rest,

on the brink,

of pumpkin tiles.

The dark silhouette,

of their swollen bodies,

painted along,

the earth’s lucid canvas

Portraying a tolerance,

to the ambiguity of love.

That even the force of nature,

cannot escape.

her.

 

Her forced smiles,

intrinsic.


Forged lips,

enslaved by her thoughts.


Hollow cheeks,

strained by continuous contractions.


Deep dimples.

As if two bullets,

 had left eternal wounds,

 on her mellow face.


Eye contact,

 became redundant.


Admiring stares,

turned into glares,

of hopelessness.


It was as if,

 she was scarred of the future.


For she could envision happiness,

alien to her.


Afraid.


So, 

so,

afraid.


There remained an ample resistance,

 behind her retina.


Distorted visions,

induced her will,

 to erode.


Along with her heart.


Her mind built barriers,

so that the soul would stay.


Yet the waves,

 of uncertainty,

 and bitterness.


Obliterated them over night.


We would awake from stillness.

Witnessing our world,

weeping in its ruins.