Happy Birthday.
Realize, having cut the cake
To ribbons
We never really had a taste
For fate
To work out
The way
You planned
It never really stood to reason
That saints
Can do wrong
And angels
Can fall
From grace
To a place
That is colored
By
Surrender.
Some such emotion
Is poking my brain
My heart,
However,
Is empty
Your eyes are brilliant
In my reveries
Your smile corrodes
Our history.
Its okay,
Now,
to be distant
Reasons,
Gathered
From drudgery
Fold napkins into shapes of daggers
To mimic
Metaphoric
Fantasies
And hold them high, above your victim
Condemn him
To
Your
Memories.
Trying
At random
To make sense
Of it all
Failing
In tandem
To make amends
For it all
Silently hoping
For it to be easy
Screaming instead
To emphasize
The agony
Realize,
Having had a taste
Of heaven
It’s not meant for you
It’s not meant for me
Comments
You have an uncanny sense of linking words with emotions as if they were meant to be.
Sonia
Our history.
And you, have the ability to strip things down to the most bare and raw. You almost physically hurt when you read something so extraordinarily poetic yet so fucking real.
Sonia: It ain't no party by one's self. Come on in and we can sulk together.
Thankyou for the compliment. It happens automatically, i feel its more providence than skill.
Disco: Hey you! Thanx for takin the time out from you non stop partying to comment. Ab please kuch blog khud bhee karo. I miss you blend of unsure melancholy.
except for me its wznt consistent. i have this idiotic habit of turning optimistic wid pessimists arnd me. dats bad for health most of da tyms. shudnt try it.
:)
on your blog:
just noticed you've gotten radio.blog ;) neato.