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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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Something

 


I feel like

A flower in yellow dew,

A bubble in the wave,

An infant gasping

On seeing its own image in the mirror

For the first time…

Touching itself,

Yet feeling something else;

Something cold

And slippery

And new…

Something hard but not solid,

Something smooth that doesn’t flow…

Something that’s me,

That doesn’t smell of wine.

Something that’s me,

That lives on my breath alone…

A parasite

Robbing me of life,

While giving an ethereal impression of it…


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