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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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Noisy hearts

 Witches in old cartoons

Brew a pot of potion

But use only a spoon of it.

Something brews in my heart.

I don’t know what it is.

And you won’t see much of it.

Because my spoon is small,

And that’s all I can show.

But it is there,

Brewing,

But missing an ingredient.

Brewing,

But missing what gives it its magic.

It is no potion;

Just a clamour of bubbles

Waiting for you

To silence them.

But I am afraid.

You might brew in me,

And I in you.

We'll be there for each other,

But not always,

Not for each other's funeral.

And for one of us

Unfortunate to stay,

The heart will become a clamour of bubbles

Again,

Making noise

That won’t go away.


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