Month: March 2015

The Knife’s Edge

Precariously on  the knife’s edge

I think about you, I do not love you. But I tell my self that I do.

Because loving you would make this okay, right, meaningful.

Wading through ever shifting sands of granular emotions

I reach for you like a man dying of thirst in this desiccated

wasteland of relationships and social interactions.

You see right through this intricately constructed facade

Behind, the lid of my eyes, I hide , I burn with shame

But there is no water here, these wells have been dry

Nothing exists here but memories , phantasms.

If I were still the old me, I would seek to elevate,

I would gush eloquently, rant  in grandiose form,

Extoll my appreciation, my desire , my love.

Yet, these are nothing but  my walls, my bastion.

I see the disdain in your eyes , I imagine its intensity,

Yet, my need  for your burns brighter still.

As if feeding off the flames of your indifference.

It seems I have never quite understood,

I am the moth and your flame burns like a beacon

Signalling my fall from grace, from equanimity.

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