Who are you?
I burnt my tongue with coffee
after a night in haze.
Sleep hasn’t come for days
and that has taken its toll on me.
My tongue is numb-
even life’s once bitter medicine
is tasteless- I’m a cynic.
My heart beats like a drum
and I carry her in it-
weightless- what a feeling.
Whatever filled my mouth with words deep and sincere
is now an abandoned child of adulterous fiction.
Whatever pierced through my thoughts clear
is now the slow caress of a shard of premonition.
Now in my bed sleeps love-
in a bundle of confusion
on white and fresh sheets
with streams of sunlight
stroking her long dark hair.
The air from her breath carries
the scent of a lemon peel
and my fingers are too afraid to touch her.
So do not call for me. Do not fall for me.
For like a mad king I succumb to jealousy.
For like a lion I roar to flaunt my power.
For like Man I struggle with Fate,
to keep the frail fire of Hope burning.
I’m a cynic. And I am far. From you,
from myself, from future and a destiny true.
From torture and frailty though –
I am not. For that is Life.
So I give you my words-
breathe them. Touch the girl with the dark hair-
maybe it is light that you will find.
Light and fire.