Can you deny that ” There’s just too much that time can not erase”!
Disgusting as she stands critical while he brushes his teeth;
At the bathroom door step she stands on one leg screaming
Blaming and vowing for revenge
He stares at the mirror, his eyes turning scary
The black scorpion moves down the corner of the ceiling towards the door step
She is still there barefooted, with a light pink transparent cotton top
She borrowed from a friend last summer
Splashed of his toothpaste penetrates her lousy top
It has been quit a time; need to get out of the stinky bathroom
He continued brushing, blood drops in the wash basin..
She noticed the drops; got extra irritated…
Are you going to spend the night brushing? She shouted.
His heart beats escalated, his lunges became tighter.
Wished the scorpion could end this siege;
He is free now..
When he is drunk, be aware; He will not amble out. Anger waves will blow up his very heart. He will first finish up with his reading table; A wooden low table longing for a flame. Then he will drive his Cadillac through the department store’s front window, gets a two pounds’ steel hammer, he needs it to escape.
Entirely unconscious; ran across the road, kick her main door. The bathroom door will not hold him from getting her. He has a hammer, remember? Will she escape or will she face a gloomy destiny?
She cries, her voice calmed him down at bit. Kind a woke up from alcohol. Yes, he hears you; speak out; Love, just like you, I loved your distraction. Time to hold you in my arms. Please move closer; feel my heart.
He cries: I am sorry baby.
Nights Shimmer as he plays the blues
Bottom deck grief saxophone; felt like
a heart stroke; his immune system crumbles.
She smiles with face like a sunflower facing sunshine
Rays of light penetrates her pink slim lips
Curtains parted as lights dim
barefooted dancing solo;
Fulfilling arrogance; yet,
Exclusively, in his arms.
Crystallizing nicked truths, illusions
Foliage sings farewell song
Alone in the water-less forest; kind of.
Gutter of life expands;
Stage of life, the way it is,
So far, rotten alcoves.
It has been years since we first met
Crazy times passed
Time is a miracle
by which, your arrogance fades
Excitement has gone dry
Eyes sparkles no more
Tears spoils the evenings
Hearts cry with doubts
Wishing the way home gets longer
Then get lost in a highway,
To another city, where he can be alone..
Loneliness might heal his bleeding lungs
Mornings might shine again..
On Curves coated with volcanic ash
An elegant wonder: What a partnership!
He stared yelling; you did it.
Gosh, I trusted you. How dare you?
Somehow she managed to stay calm,
Not till the moment,
Ugly are those feelings,
Overwhelming lonely nights,
From the balcony, she hears his breath,
So deep, anger extends,
Never mind it, feelings faded,
Just savor our red wine,
remember its taste over your skin.
It cools him down, every time.
Swirled thoughts on the bed head board,
Wait for the dawn, your wound bleeds till Friday.
Heal, exhale, yoga will not do,
empty head, blurred eyes,
She collapsed on his shoulder,
Darling, just keep me,
Vacant spacious bed, then,
You can always enjoy me; daring,
“What would men be without women? Scarce, sir…mighty scarce.” ― Mark Twain
Further, a scene of gloomy nights,
Fuzzy moon, shines darkness,
Five starts hotels suffers,
Car dealers goes bankrupted.
Life is just tailor –made around a woman’s splendor.
Every now and then;
when he craves for Intimacy,
on his knees begging you to stay,
when he goes crazy about your fantasy curved waist,
when he crumbles breathless, hear his heart rustles.
Remember, immortal hummingbirds over your window;
Just like him, seeking warm shelter from snowing skies;
Manipulative; the one he worships.
just like a quill in a storm, he falls for her; distractions goes blurred.
He whispers: Darling,
how about dinner, candle lights, and a saxophonist playing just for you?
Atrocious were the ancient wounds.
Jasmine breeze under moon light deepens his scars,
His soul enjoyed horrible pleasures,
The uneven guilty ones at dawn,
Just never mind me, it will be over soon,
Once my weak heart dashes into bits.
By then, she will be hugging another,
hugs that praises shallow guilty pleasures.
Sick of guilt, fears, and lousy you.