Child of the Wind

Did I not love you, child

Of the wind

I sent my regards in sighs

After I had done away with the dry

Tears. Of the ochre dress

Of the amniotic smears

Earth under my fingernails

Did I not nurture you, child

Of the womb

How I fumed

When you were forcefully weaned

From me

My love-child

Did I not protect you, child

For months you were mine, child—

And then suddenly you weren’t

A no-show to your own party

 But still—

Look around you

Look what I had to do

Pointy razor-sharp blades of green,

Green grass

Drawn for your protection, little lass

Thorns of rose bushes

Grown wild, gushes

Of deep, deep colour

Breaking your sickly pallor

Did I fail you, child

Festering beguiled

With redemption

A whiff

Lost forever to the wind

I won’t fail you again my child

I was meek, I was mild

Branded like cattle in

Angry shades of

Black and blue

Tattoos that washed off

With time

I won’t fail you this time, my child

Save me a few shy smiles

You forever remain mine

My child.

 

la douleur exquise

 

There are 5 things I fear more than death.

Maybe more, but I don’t count so good.

To start with, I fear heartbreak

more than I fear death,

yet to be frank its a little death that keeps

on giving long after I have died.

For a heart is only a half until you bump into your other half

and a mechanic is summoned to weld those two halves

into one so the heart can start to beat.

And then she leaves.

She tears you apart leaving a gaping hole,

because you know, the heart doesn’t break even.

She leaves with a huge chunk of what used to be

your own half.

And so you die.

I fear the morning after more than death.

Because the dawn will come and Morpheus

will shove you from his lofty dreams

and Reality will bitch-slap you

to a beer bottle so you can drown your sorrow.

And die.

Another little death because die you must

with every day that dawns.

I once politely asked to remain in my dream-state

but Morpheus declined.

He called it Coma and he says

he doesn’t do mercy killings, thank you very much.

I fear you more than death itself.

For you are death-incarnate

and seeing you is fire and brimstone

shoved down my throat without ceremony.

I die so many deaths simply thinking about the way you breathe;

in and out, in and out.

Breathing just fine yet I am struggling

just to draw a single breath.

You left me winded with your dramatic exit,

high heels clicking like nails drilled into my heart.

I fear you for you are life itself

and leaving me is leaving me for dead.

You are my soul and without you I am simply a shell.

I talked of 5 things I fear more than death,

but instead of counting them off my fingers,

 I bunch them up into a fist

and that fist is you.