When I write about you
You make no sense, don't you ?
You're broken syllables of an unspoken language &
response of a mute spectator.
You're woeful, ain't you?
You stole life of a beloved;
& choked my blue jugular vein, didn't you?
You beseech &beckon me;
without fingerprints & echoes.
You made me vulnerable into bare bodies &
a sober piece of wounded
thoughts
You shackled a life in a skeleton, &
few bones laden without a sense of touch.
What'll you judge me about
A belief, what's a belief!
Except a bargain of love, isn't it ?
When you'll be considerate;
much before my expiration
I've woes & hymns to sell.
I'll always write to you
postcards, & unsent letters
dipped in a bleeding inkpot.
Meet me in a broken swollen sky & brief me
just like the fleeting moment of a rainbow.
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H