Language of us
We speak with an unending ellipsis,
We look into each other while erasing exclamations
And I, settle into disfigured question marks…
Your patience wanes upon your every stare,
The ease of movement from the door to my lips
Syntactically forms our compounded desire
Pausing the denial with our resounding onomatopoeic pucks
And restoring the vacancies in my soul.
I am in love.
A circular stop at such definition is inevitable.
My small world had been bracketed into the parenthesis of our transverse
It lives only with in for it is miscommunicated with out.
I am in love.
My yearning burns for you,
Centering myself in your structured personifications.
I live in the voice of your articulations.
I slumber on the curtsy of your felt pen
I breathe upon the breaths you unsmother
To project words upon which I depend.
I am in love.
Our bodies have unified as infinite embraces of unspoken literature
Flavouring the artifacts of bards and luminaries of times untold
Our bodies fill the string of the sentence
That lyricises upon the song of the ancient betrothed
We are eternal.
In a present that seems finite.
We are immortal
There lies the winging words of ecstatic love
Lingering on the endless ellipsis …
you are not here
This space has become mine…
You roam inside your world and you wait to neatly pack your life before you leave a note…
But I, with an open drawer, air my words unfolded and creased
Sometimes embarrassed by my unravelling threads that came apart from my worn out words;
while u quietly think how to
Iron the seams of your shirts.
You watch me and listen and I hope you see
How I spill my emotions
like I spilled ketchup on my shirt
Sometimes
I leave little notes of apologies
And gestures of our soul idiosyncrasies in hope you will respond with untimely firsts
But here I am
In this space that has become mine… My unkempt words
Perhaps you are tired of walking into an untidy world.
