Heartbreak hotel

Does it come with a warning?
Or does it sound as brittle as the shattering of glass?
Does it taste like despair on your tongue- ashen, dry and unpleasant?
Or does it leave an aftertaste, bitter and nauseous?
It's one thing to call yourself a beacon of strength
and another to shed silent tears when no one's looking
A failed attempt, and some more, and hope is washed away like by the tides of time.
Corroding the light and heaping in darkness.
A car Crash, a death, a black dress and mourning.

is there going to be some light at the end of this tunnel?

Comments

Mohit Sureka said…

good post, nice use of words.

PS: i dont remember knowing you lavieenrose but somehow i have been following your blog. no wonder,good writing.

February 16, 2012 at 4:02 PM

the last walk down street A

i turn. it follows as it always has. dark memory.buried deep. deep deep deep within the unreachable corners of the undecipherable world. a pretence . and love.in all its colours. tears.sobs.swollen promises. some more. and i know. what it never will. through the neon eeriness of la noche. like a dingy glove. a blast from the past. persistence and resistance and acceptance.and Deliverance will its soul respond? will it cry? will it remember? as i know. i will.

Sincere seasons

a pool of mystic blue a parched sky and a pillar of strength changing the old ways of the earth planting new trees feeding.gently moulding. a slab of see-through glass and my Soul to give. I live and exist. You, love. anonymous singers and a sea of gold a tuneless whistle and a graceful bow. interlinked Fingers and curly Hair. the shadow of a Smile. the Eyes of a mystic. countless stars .and a green horizon. one, two or three..the numbers grow. a reed of music. and a jet plane. a quest for the truth. unsullied. a colour so new and pure. old habits DIE.Hard. crossing the threshold of thorns wiping the dust off those roads. a new path.new hopes. warm tingles at the base of a heart. someday it shall be so. painted roads and red alleys. humming the happy blues. an eye ,that nose.. a Red, red rose. And those little Words.. at the Harp.

the shadows of freedom

Sunshines and moonlights and a milky stream the shadows of the morrow go blink blink blink... a pen a paper and a million lines. going one-two one-two ...three three three the raindrops on the window's ledge.. the weeping lilies of the night.. a corkscrew, a knife and a bottle of wine. a litre of water and a careless glance. powdered cheek and a painted nail. tin cans and soldiers all forgotten.. long live this freedom.. that love has begotten.

illusional reality

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