as if posted by imani , Saturday, February 19, 2011 at 1:45 PM, in Labels: ars poetica

the thunder make the skies swell with
an inevitable ache, my mind drowns in
the pleasure of anaesthesia ~ in its
simplest, rawest form ~ which is a being

named you ~ a being whom I named my
prayer and desire, my reason and my
battle, now the hours lay on the bed
awaiting your gentle mercy to decide

its fate, the anger of rain drench the
flowers that thirst for light, and i am
moved by the sudden, gaping void in

my room, now without you, now helplessly
remembering the seconds you held
my body as if it were your own.