Wednesday, February 5, 2014

The twain shall meet

Photo Cortsey: Fight_Club_by_evil_penguins

So after many days 
we sit across the table
yes you and me
as if we are parts of a fable

there are lines, thin, but tensed
while i am all whines 
about feelings which no one sensed

So I start the talk
with a fetch of a small walk
"Where have you been these days
A bug and a furrow and happiness like sorrow"

He winks waves wanders mellows
Cause he looks sullen with the sun yellow
He says, then thinks, perches his lips and again winks
The words just linger but not long enough to chide the finger

He thinks and thinks
while I contemplate
was it a yin or a yang
or just plain words that killed him off his slumber

I never saw him agitated so much
like a nurse with the tip of a death stench
He was not someone who would wait
and wait to answer what he never knew
but then today he waited
at my jibe he waited

we both knew that the cacophony had to emanate soon
the clothes he wore were to be shed soon

a million coffers down and a zillion oaths sworn

I asked him again not of his absence
but of his ominous presence 
of his stock hair and stoic pretence

Finally he graced me with words
fit enough to be a kings hearse
He said that he never knew angst nor disdain
he felt that now maybe his feelings too weren't his own

Stuck between a mirage of gloom
and a sea of bloom
He never knew if it was guilt bequeathed 
or sun kissed weed
Days of commonality were just a denomination
absence of happiness was just a mere absolution

we agreed that dejection was me
not feeling adequate was me 
fun frolic faith was but me
appearances drooled while the world in which i lived ruled

It has been long when the you and me have little differences
It was like a homecoming cause the we was me
the twain were me 
soon we met and we met for good
cause the disdain was but me




The world is a stage

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Interesting hmm

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