Storms of a thousand inner deserts blow the sands of despair around my lonely figure
The bloody skies lose the scent of friendship once promised
The end of the tether slips through my sweaty fingers as my mind can keep silent no more.
Intoxicated with you I was, never knowing, oblivious until tonight.
The storms will not leave till rain arrives to cloak me in her heavy greys.
Golden warmth over the city’s ancient lines of communication, or so you said.
My heart echoes in my mind tonight and will not rest before reason is drowned out of
What I feel for you.
This is my thousandth life, maybe. You are the ninth mistake of my thousandth life.
You, my first love, of a thousand lives.
And the time has come at last for prayer. I shall bend and break the rules of the universe to have you swear at me over the phone again. I challenge Him thus.
God, please. Don’t make me say it out loud. You know what pulses in me tonight. It’s difficult to put in words. Please?
The moaning, howling winds lost in the sea of sand shall return someday, and bring with them the scent of rain, fresh on the window panes of my life.
“Hello?” quivers her voice from the other end, forever wondering if she had got the right number.
After a call a day, for half a year, forever wondering.
The shadows of soft thoughts that were born at Genesis falls softly on us, do you see? I’ve got you now, you ain’t escaping the great inescapable, unreasonable unnamable I have for you in my little heart right here.
Oh, I almost forgot stars. Silver dream clouds traverse the velvet dream sky deep in the night, casting magic shadows over the glum unhappy nests of the city. I have heard the great foundry of thought at night, far away in the starry sky, manufacturing all the silly unexplainables that nestle and breed in our head and make us waste our whole lives for them. Things as meaningless, as purposeless as love.
Things as meaningful, as independent of purpose, as love.
You have made me pray tonight for the first time in my insignificant life, pray for precious drops of more priceless time that I can savour the joy of being with you, of knowing you, of knowing that you love me, of loving you.
Evening drizzles of a hundred city streets breathe in my mind with the only hope of being lived with you someday.
And the storms die. I know you’ll be back.