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…
You've left.
And I try to write poems without you in them.
But I can only try.
You creep in
Somewhere;
Like light through a torn drape,
Like an error in a published book,
Like water going down in a slow tornado
Into a clogged drain.
I can only try.
You creep in
Somewhere.
And I change the words,
I stitch the drapes and repair the drains and the leaking pipes.
But I can still see you in my words.
You creep in from somewhere
Like a worm
In an apple already eaten.
You creep in from somewhere
And I realize it too late.
You've left
And I try to write poems without you in them.
But I can only try.
You creep into my heart and play tricks with the lines.
You've left
And I try to write poems without you in them.
But I can only try
Again.
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