If I could get you on the phone again,
perhaps even revisit your voicemail,
to hear your soothing voice rid me of pain,
perhaps I wouldn’t ever be so frail.
Even when I step outside my own door,
the chills in the winter skies tear at me,
relentlessly, so what am I here for,
searching for love, one that can never be?
Dear you, I wished to see a smile once more,
a warm embrace, while it begins to pour,
and I’m kept inside on an empty floor,
forgone is the face I had once adored.
Just where in you do the bitter days lie,
so very deep inside, a love so high?
When the minutes wind down to seconds,
and the countdown etches itself painfully
into your mind, what’s left
is only a mere moment whereby time lapses,
and physicality fades into bare nothingness,
into a pitch dark piece of empty space,
a passive spell that keeps your eyes
in a perpetual trance, in a slow dancing room,
where you’re invisible to the world,
and no one sees anything,
but a table and two chairs, two coffees,
two sugars being stirred in by themselves
because there’s no one there, no one else
there, but a timeless boundary,
a simple timeless dimension
where you reside
so painfully
tonight.
A stroll in the park, silent cooling breeze,
blowing her kisses from dear yesterday,
as the distant warmth drifts further away,
and clouded tomorrows are all she sees.
He hides in the shelter of a payphone,
the ceaseless drops of rain remain merciless
to polished shoes, and in his hands a dress
for an only lover, hours spent hand-sewn.
None calls home for happy-ever-after,
she drinks till the lights go out, he lights till
his pack runs out, and they remain so still
on two ends of the world so much farther.
If they could count the million stars again,
perhaps they would no longer live in pain.
Because of you,
the sun no longer rises into such bleak skies,
the moon hangs eternally with the stars
of who-knows-when, so far, so far away.
Because of this,
a sip from the old cup of coffee remains bitter,
so tasteless, without the feel of your lips
on mine, for mine now read a monotonous lie.
Because of me,
every word you had spoken finds it way
to etch itself into an afterlife I cannot see,
a mere hopeful moment that can never be.
Because of tears
that streamed ceaselessly, down your face
as they crept silently into my broken heart,
tearing me apart, so I can never smile again.
Stuck in a paradise of broken dreams,
phone on redial, a blinking light shining
on a swing at our used-to-be playground.
An empty other end, left on the seams
of thin threads, fragmented moments in time,
and frozen bottles of guilt and sorrow.
Wasted are my nights of regretful days,
no longer rising is my distant sun,
drowned to darkness will my life now turn to.
Why does your heart hurt,
why does it ache late in the night,
an agony you call emotionless solitude,
waiting ever so patiently for his call?
Why do you wait hopelessly,
why do the minutes morph into hours,
endless tremors that turn the world around,
as you yearn for her warm hazel eyes?
Why would she indulge in wilful sorrow,
why would he ask for so much pain?
I don’t expect you to give a slightest care.
Even at the end of the line, you’re not there
because I’m speaking to perpetual emptiness,
whispers that do not reach near your ears,
fragments of simple lines do not leave my lips,
not at all, this all because you’re so far away,
distant, a fading memory left only hanging
by threads of a mended heart, only to break
into pieces once again, no please not again,
and a silent tear falls onto written parchment,
words that find no meaning, find no heart
to touch so dearly, to soothe so kindly,
so surely, you can’t still be there.
Because I’m sure you give no slightest care.
Put her out of the ringing gunshots,
can’t feel her pain, that when her son drops
to the floor, down liquor on the rocks,
such times of suffering making her feel locked.
She’s all alone, back home shedding tears,
sitting reminiscing on her past fears,
looking back, all the hurt kept in her last years,
in no way able to sit back and switch gears.
Bound by life till she’s marked for death,
holding on, desperate, to a heartless breath,
wishing all well when she deserves best,
day to day her mind’s filled with bare stress.
How she wished she didn’t go astray,
up till now she prays for a better day.
These questions have no need for answers,
they find their ways along cloudless climates,
each gentle wave that wanders along
such sands, the embrace, these loving hands
if I should recall, if I could dream of
the warmth of a setting sun, a midnight kiss,
the unwavering riddles of your passing day,
unspoken secrets that you carry along
with grace, an overflowing perfection.
If only you could see your own beauty,
that which lights up both sky and sea.
The hanging lines are fragmented glass,
so distant and so broken are such memories,
echoing so vibrantly in rhythmic melodies,
waiting so patiently but still at an impasse.
Your footsteps tremble as the shadows creep
right up behind you, beckoning you away,
marked as evil laughters’ very own prey,
while I’m all choked as you cry and you weep.
Such moonlit skies, they’re nothing but trouble,
they imitate the grins of insanity, a stroll in Hell
so lonely, so cold so into darkness we fell,
for earth beneath us knows only to crumble.
So I’ll paint you a portrait, the chill touch of fire,
a sad sad hum sung by your own choir.
