Poetry
V.D. Gomes
Isn’t every second, wounding you alive?
Moments like decades,
Progressing without stride.
The moment you left,
Acute abandonment was felt.
Agony held me bare,
As I was unable to dare.
It all seemed ferocious,
Sweet pictorials were my only support.
Idle chairs would be employed,
Eyes would help presuming that you adore.
Fractions of days, mostly in the nights,
Missing your cuddling,
And humble pieces of your pride.
Courses are being made,
But no one for serving.
Tasting is heedless,
As mind prefers starving.
As no hand will bring a spoon,
Forcing me to have a bit more,
Idle Chairs would be employed,
Eyes would help presuming your adore.
Toiling here and there, making inept mistakes,
Brain demands your sight,
Like nicotine soothes its distress.
Yet faults are good,
If you were near to laugh at them.
For recurrence, you are to blame,
As I have no one to pledge for them.
After chores, under the shower,
Warm water propels my agonies to the floor.
Idle chairs would be employed,
Eyes would help presuming your adore.
Don’t you remember the sweet spots,
Where we used to go before?
Photos and videos are still in memory,
But no one is beside to share the show.
Pillow proxies your chest, and I lean on it,
Painfully enjoying your sights,
Tears fear to come out, as people would backbite,
Of handling the mere plight.
Have none to describe my vivacious sorrow,
Even my heart replies, “No! No! No more!”
Idle Chairs would be employed,
Eyes would help presuming your adore.
Fought against all, even Nature cried for support,
When I was absorbed in you.
Now you seem absorbed, like a pigeon abroad,
Striving for pleasure, it deserves not all.
Asking the leaves, and the wandering azure,
To create an aura where painlessness produced.
Leaves hide inside, clouds cover the blue,
Even crows allude, “You have been pushed”.
Don’t you think, your crossing it at every blink,
Without realizing the ultimate metaphor.
Idle Chairs would be employed,
Eyes would help presuming your adore.
Unknown to you, is my arching excitement,
When you start ignoring the phone rings.
My eyes remain helpless, gazing at your profile,
Demanding Dialing to turn into Clock.
Sometimes I scold, as a lover,
Not with aggressive intentions at all.
I will sleep well, if the talk is sugary,
But if it’s not, terrifying thoughts starts knocking at my door.
During all these special times, I have to satisfy myself,
Telling life is going great like never before.
Idle Chairs would be employed,
Eyes would help presuming your adore.