The Winter Has Come

an orphanage of contradictions 

housing dreams of dramatic passions 

I’m a tenant to my own dreams

paying rent to a loud landlord in

pieces of my metaphorical flesh

and metaphorical courage

more metaphor than blood am I

diverse discrepancies tied in knots

around a gift wrapped in ashes

of a history textbook of mistakes.

read me with your fingers, know me

with your lips. I will taste like the last surge

of hot red blood in a haplessly freezing body.

reveling in the rebelling of my body

against my mind. I put the music in

mutiny, that’s how sick I am. All the

flavour of my tea has been lost in its

vapour but i will gulp down the brown lava anyway

and let its warmth tingle all over my chest,

just to create some feeling there

since you left. The faintest sparks of sentiment

burn my body like dragon fire and I will

implode in the ire of words best

left unsaid and unheard.

burn me

burn me till all the love in me

evaporates and then rains on

the rest of the world so terribly

so torrentially that not an ounce

of sanity in spared in humanity

only then will I let my body stumble

over the crumbled papers that are inked

with half finished poems of a love that was

not unrequited, only incomplete and

half-hearted. With a rumble will I fall upon the

ice cold marble and there I will lay. I will lay till

I feel the floors frigidity attack my body

and seep beneath the skin through all

the invisible wound openings. I will freeze in

broad daylight, I will freeze in open sunshine

I will freeze in a meadow of dancing green and yellow,

 I will freeze

 till my heart

 stops beating

For you.

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