Winter

Winter turns my fiery passions grey.

This season’s night falls too soon and

spectral images of you

rise from my dreams like incubi.

As I lay awakened in the darkness

contemplating you,

my insides curdle with

mixtures of love and hate.

Because I say so

I can say

“I love you”

and make it mean less

I can dilute it

make it as potent as

a vodka-shot in a water-litre

I can say

“I love you”

like the punchline

to an old joke or

a furtive smile

to a faceless stranger

on a sunny day

I could say

“I love you”

as a tender revelation

soul searing cries from

beyond emotion

But I say “I love you”

in a million

innocuous ways

to save me from

the painful silences

the certainty in your eyes that

you

do not

love me.

A Comparison

As useful as

an hour glass

full of pebbles

As pretty as

shattered mirrors, stained glass

washed over with black paint

As desirable as

a life full of pain:

A heart full of love.

Perfect Peace

A night sky

of velvet indigo

with diamond stars

like scattered dew

and a crescent moon

it’s beauty and light

shaded by the haze

of shadowed clouds

they find a certain peace

in being aloof

far removed from you or I

I wish...

I wish I could find that peace

removed from this world

seeing, all, touching all

while not being touched myself

Mysterious and unreachable

at perfect, perfect peace.

Mental Mosaic

Cracks in my mind

filled with cement

coloured slabs

of unyielding thought

of ideas

beautiful but dead

killed by the

sudden jolt out of inertia

(couldn’t take the shock)

Stuck together haphazardly

making a pretty pattern

making no sense

making me smile

The pattern’s getting blurred now

or is it just

the tears in my eyes?

Why do I cry?

Pretty patterns never last;

not forever.

That’s why.