Hanging On.

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It’s early morning.
You were late last night.
I’m a wrinkle colder.
Your heat is still quite right.
An abused reflection
Calls back my will to fight,
Since absolution long since died,
In the barrenness of past nights.

Passion sputtered out
Like oxygen on the moon.
The stars are burning out,
They’ll lose their light soon.
Love is now sympathy
Given to a blubbering whale
Disemboweled by some harpoon.

What of the time lost?
Who knows what you do now;
How much sensible truth
Will conscience allow?
We both cling on like idiots
To some ill-spent, ill-matched vow.

It’s early morning.
You’re snoring in a heap.
I do not even seek
Any inclination to weep.
All I ask from this burning day
Is a quieting chance to sleep.

7am
21st April.

Horror Movie

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It feels like you

scoured my heart,

with Freddy Krueger nails

and left nothing

back for me,

but a bad edit,

in a horror movie.

(Sometimes even those

get the chance at a sequel.)

I leaned in

to lightly kiss you;

you leaned back;

away, away,

so far away,

that a stranger,

with a kind look,

could say, “fuck you?”

and I would

say “okay”.

It’s a haunting,

of past faith

and future ruin;

where nothing lives,

nothing’s left to give.

I can’t even wait

for some mythical letting go,

to cart me away,

away from the hope

that you will perhaps,

someday, see

you lean back

into the nothingness

of the ending

of your flop horror movie.

 

 

Valentine’s Day 2012

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Our love seems to have flown to a distant land

And our very souls neither understand.

Many times we both feel misunderstood,

Wonder if life will lead to anything good.

I’ll never fully adjust to your frowns,

You’ll never soothe my emotional downs.

In twelve years most of our time seems wasted,

Countless experiences neither tasted,

But since this is valentine’s after all,

I must tell you why i stick to it all.

Like you i feel an excess of feeling

That stirs up despite my heart’s concealing;

When i realise that you are nowhere near,

Spontaneously, i believe you dear.

There aren’t many stolen kisses as before –

When you kiss me now i remember it more.

If i had no hope or feeling for you now,

I wouldn’t notice the creases in your brow;

You would not help but know my weakest trait,

And find ways through means and compensate.

I mentioned it seems love has moved away

But i haven’t mentioned it has gone to stay.

Passion is something that’s not forgotten,

It can leave a taste of time gone rotten.

Love tends to steal back when you need it,

It seems silent till you wish to heed it.

Today despite our idiosyncrasies,

Despite the beliefs each of us believes,

Twelve years of feeling have made me learn,

Wherever love roams it is bound to return.

 

6pm