Skip to main content

Off your shelf

 




Old candles lit just as it started to rain;
I heard you beg for redemption though all in vain.
You prayed on your knees as you felt blind;
darling, all the reasons you’d get in the world, but the magic you will always have to find.

Chapters after chapters, books after books;
to rid you of the hurt, to get you off tenterhooks.
You keep flipping pages for a cure, trying to find an antidote;
for all your sins and for all the letters she ever wrote.

Caves to shield you from disgrace, mountains that keep you out of sight;
screaming telling the world what you did was okay, what you did was right.
So you circle the past, and go back to an age-old disease;
the tragedy is within, my love, all the oceans of the world but you still won’t find any peace.

Go ahead and paint back the walls with my name;
break my photo from that gold frame.
Sweetheart, but I'll tell you something off the shelf;
the world is too small a place for a coward who’s always running away from himself. 



Until next time,
Love, always
S

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When the stars gazed back at us.

  When the stars gazed back at us,  it was not about beginnings; it was about recognition. About that rare, almost fleeting moment when the universe did not feel distant or indifferent, but attentive, almost complicit. ;) I woke up remembering you, All your words, old and new. Of dreams I hold of lands unseen, As if your name’s the hum I’ve known, your face the only thing I’ve seen. Even the sun bears your name,  Without you, rain feels strangely tame. They may call me mad, broken, or even wrongly built, I’d still reduce to dust all that may keep us apart, without remorse or even a speck of guilt. You and me, we took an oath, To be each other’s home through misery and gloat. If I were to do it all over again, I would, of course, I would, Wouldn't change a thing even if I could. I’ve held you through your sin, you’ve seen me through my crime Miles and miles I’ve carried all your shadows; you have borne witness to mine.  Across all lives, though you forg...
Post a Comment
Read more

Miss you like an old song.

Somewhere between an old radio song, a cold vanilla latte, and emotional unemployment, I wrote  (blows raspberries )  THIS?!  *insert debating one’s own sanity [poet really only means the curtains are blue] You know those people who leave so quietly that even silence starts sounding like them after a point? Excruciating enough  that some nights, memory shows up disguised as curiosity and suddenly you’re three hours deep into old interviews, random reddit  ravel   (wtf is even that?!) , blurry photographs, and strangers loving/hating someone like they discovered them first.  And somehow, against all logic, one might still end up offended… as if the world was supposed to know that your silence around them was sacred. When they sometimes wanna make you drag out of the perfectly made (very very comfortable) cocoon then climb on top of that rooftop yell (softly though) for them to bloody get out of their head, how they’ve stretched out the liberty by far m...
Post a Comment
Read more

Miles of space to play with

People like to believe the universe is some grand orchestrator, shuffling fate cards like a moody blackjack dealer. But sometimes, it just sits back with popcorn and watches two people fumble their way into a slow-burning disaster that smells vaguely of espresso and unresolved tension. Enter Nat and Miles, two souls with more chemistry than a freshman lab fire, and just about as much common sense. By now, I assume you know Miles a bit. So allow me to introduce Nat. Nat. Now there’s a piece of work the universe clearly cooked up on a cheeky day. All sharp wit, unreadable playlists, and the kind of elegance that doesn’t try, it just is. She walks into a room like she already knows the ending but still watches everyone else catch up. She’ll dissect a business pitch, write a blog that punches through your chest, and still look vaguely annoyed that you haven’t figured out how she takes her coffee (strong, like her opinions, with a splash of skimmed milk and quiet judgment). But don’t be foo...
Post a Comment
Read more