For the Once 14-Year Old Girl

You have grown up now.
One glance, a fleeting one at that
Upon, perchance, a wintry tree
Wilted frosted flowers in a November garden.
Ignorant are the fools who crush, who do not see
Looming minds, lamenting souls
Looking, ululating, lulled.

And I see you, standing aghast, is that hope too?
Lights rushing past your gleaming eyes
Witnessing- and is it all that the heart could bear?
A stellar sky falls prey to the silent smoke.
You see it engulfed, the world moves not.
Stationary it is perhaps, as aghast as you.

Blooms are for kids, you realise-
Everything is dark, lonely and cold.
My hand is warm, and you can hold it.
You have grown, but you are still the same
Vertrauen Sie mich- unconditionally, beyond.

... Even though I know your secret.

My Friend Left

Things are different now-
Perched upon my own fingers,
Lest I write and regret
I heard my greatest friend tonight.

And Darkness spoke of loss-
Of little flickers that make her run,
Of the majesty of her reign
All in one swift breathless whisper.

"Are you tired?", she asked.
"Of course," I murmured.
"Grayer skies, bloodier wounds-"
"-and jest, " she completed.

"Jest? Jesters tired of jest?", I inquired.
Darkness looked away, perhaps.
Or maybe I did. I looked elsewhere -yes.
"Is that why you live with me?"

She smiled, a tiny nudge on my nape
"Truths are joy, truth be told."
I looked aghast, as my greatest friend
Abandoned me too - I heard footsteps-

I crawled, with closed eyes
And Light embraced me, tight.
They all laughed at my disfigurements
And I couldn't find my friend again.

My shrieks filled the chamber-

For a 14 year Old Girl

Violently, he draws every door to a shut.

Today is a sultry dawn, he sees-
He holds up the light against the grey walls
Ignites the tip of his last cigarette
Singeing his eyes, his insides.

Insipid, life dangles on the hour hand of the ticking clock
Saying nothing, sometimes saying the most.

For tomorrow might bring another little memory-
Of a silent house that screams in high-pitched horror
Rueful, he cries- the tears dwell in possibility.

You, of those pretty eyes that belie the tumult they see
Of my love, I can promise you-
Unconditionally, beyond.