Thereafter nothing happened! I ceased to be. You quit not to. I did not wish to succeed, you desired to see my failures triumph and the road ahead turned out to be the only obstacle. We walked up-to it, like an epileptic inertia and opened ourselves up, to its perplexed closure. The key you were bestowed with unlocked the door, but not the mystery.
Now, having arrived here with a childish carelessness, my only sanctifying sacrament, the absolution in my own depravity. Your parched embrace became my shroud, draping the coffin of my skeletal confinement, with an acute sense of oblivion. Shovel after shovel of rue burying me deep, into the realms of meanings, overwhelmed by whose obviousness, I fail to discern. For ground when found becomes a pretext to depart and when lost, the purpose to arrive.
Like a shot, you come to me in search of a realization, the penance in my eyes attempts to grope the guise in yours, beholding the reflection of it without disturbing the wakeless contours of the dream. Your blindness being the final resting place of my anxious sight, masks my eyes with varying faces of your gray heart. I visualise you turning into a wreath on the tombstone of my gloomy visions.
At long last, like a dejection injected with desire strengthening its own fragility, the night, a condensed sigh never heaved, takes you into the folds of its peril. Suddenly you spread out like a bewildered answer and are relieved of yourself. The heaven succumbs to the silence of moon. I listen to the desires of the earth sobbing like a skylark in my heart. You paint yourself with pretense and dab devoutness on my eyes with the remaining brushstrokes.
Morning, an eternal tale of epiphany you dread, grows into an altar where your insular silence confesses all the stories supposed to bring you expiation. With a devotional pretext, your lips pronounce my name, possibly to coax the dreadful faces of your heart away, from the candid void that made up mine, as though death of an accomplishment shrouds itself in the eternity of demise.
And so am I!
The distance with which you measure the gap between my constraint and your craving, a prayer afflicted with solitary pleasure, a desolation devoid of pain, the abode of remorse. A sudden sense tossed between one commandment and the other, alive only in the thud with which I fall on the flinty surface of desire, the aftermath of this fortuity, imperceptible, almost as perfect as Our Lord God, a sentient numbness.
A metaphor lost in the similarity of differences which turns me into a subtle shadow yearning to embrace your vivid image in my forgetfulness, and a powerful image looking at your subtle shadow from an arms distance when I remember.
A dream now, from the cracks of which you drink and draw the courage to face the mornings, as to disappoint the stealth of the day and entrap its blinding daze. A tomb to the continuum of time, whose epitaph is made of the regret of days adorning the grave which houses the solitude of nights.
A failure to contain my unrestrained bloom of aridity. I overflow the banks of accord & denial, to embrace the turbulence of discontent with which life flows. For only by journeying through the sin and withstanding the turmoil of guilt, can be attained loss, the sole virtue worthy an atonement.
The freedom rendered meaningless, dangling between your unconscious vigilance and conscious eyes, as a pause between an unknown calm and a known one, you having overcome the urge while I seeking to overcome the urge to overcome. A rapture full of furore, an affluence of nothing.
A momentary convergence of an infinite trial to never utter never, an inescapable inevitability. The elation of its chasm lightening the burden of gravity. The blurred image of a vexed wonder which conjoins yet also demarcates, reason from feeling, cause from effect being from annihilation while itself staying clear of them all.
A farewell to the mockery of being which watched you orbit the absence of fulfillment, when it clung to the jagged edges of its own fragmentation, like a mysterious belief memorized to be forgotten for good.
In colours of the evening flowers hushed into an embrace with the black of the dusk, am the void which breaks down to fill the emptiness imprisoned between the multitude of lacunae in cosmos just to felicitate the repletion of the otherwise baffled sky.
The squeeze of your supple absence letting the world trickle through a fracture, which separates me from everything & everyone that could possibly distance me from you, a fatigued & hollow promise relating you to the rest of existence.
A why that never happened without you, yet always hidden the same way too, like a seizure borne out of the doubtful what and a promising how. An enough, the journey which postpones the destiny, eventually sending it into exile unto the delirium of surrender, the lone perplexed tangible of existential clarity.
A desolation, the only companion to the deprivation of this prison whose walls are as lonely as the patch of blue sky making love to its hollowed gray, taking in each other, drop by drop, grain by grain, as if life devouring being, breath by breath, all during the very lifetime, until existence becomes a taunt jibing at life, life an unwilling existence in the making.
And then a limbo which brings me back to myself only to chase the dream away from me, to the ruins of your wakefulness, as a pilgrim unto vanity of being the visible invisibility
An announcement of silence as loud as the choke which whimpers my name and sticks to your throat like a melody in coma, an intoxicated disquiet, restraint in trance.
I am the fact, garbed in your naked perception, whenever I wish to bare myself before you, I strip myself off your desire and become fiction.