Work of Art

Dearie,
I may be no artist
But let me draw you
With my own
Stroke of words
And color you
With the same passion
Running through my veins
Up unto my heart

In that way
I’d immortalise you
And the memories we’d never make
And keep the artwork
In my own
Secluded gallery
While you pass your years away
Living the life you always wanted
Living the life as if I’d never existed.

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Ordinary Universe

​Her mind is
Nothing but a wonderful blessing
Always yearning
Always growing

And here I am
But a blunt feather
Blown away by her endless wind
I float along the hush of her whisper
Enchanted
Of how grand of an angel she is
Eternally too big
And too much
To fit in
Our ordinary universe.

Scribbles in Sheets

​Scribbles in sheets-

Hues differ from another-

Faces of their kind

Vulnerably carved.

Scribbles in sheets-

Covered in dust, may be,

Rather dull of nostalgia

To no degree.

Scribbles in sheets-

Apart from flesh and blood-

Are what keeps us all

Human.

Secrets

Doesn’t matter

How we try and hide

A piece of our puzzle.

One way or another

Upon the casting light

Its shadow will reveal

What remains in the riddle

We refused to hear.

Shadow of Angel

Oh, shadow of angel
Nothing but wind
Nothing but art
Strength under his wings
Endearing me
Immerse into heaven

Potion burns my veins
River of magenta
I didn’t know it was
Until it drowned my brain

A gaze
Consuming sanity
Mouth falls and rises
Muffling my distress
Penetrating tongue
Imprisoning my escape
Wings eventually
Metamorphose into claws
Lacerating senses

They say
Darkness rouses
From light’s absence
No
Darkness is your shadow
An engorged blind of sorrow

From beneath the silk
Oozing smoke of blood
They swim
The seed
(They do)
Unable to avoid
Mischief of your plant

Seconds fly too fast
Irreversible and true
I now bear what a curse
Another form of you

Would run
Only if can
Restless ache in between

Thought it was wind
Thought it was art

Should have run
While I still can.