Where your shadows can’t reach

When you left, the darkest of voids
swalloed me in
Like the passed down succulents
from the centuries beyond our reach

I fathom your equalvocality
Once and for all,  in this age of emotional spree
I embrace these last rituals of a lover
The feathers of the long agonizing months

The furious tussle,
to rub you off from the memories
To omit what’s yours,
Your smile which is no more
an ornamental majesty to me

At the threshold of premonition
There is an empathy between your words
Where time is viciously dense

And the awkward grace
which only your oneness can wear
which you feared would go dull in time
has lost the luster, all too soon.

But who is to blame
if your voice has suddenly become too ordinary
who is to blame
if your laughter sounds too cacaphonic to me
who is to blame, if not you
for burning too bright in the summer.

Seasons bustled and I have been conquered
So this winter, I shall just be a mortal rag
honing my desires at the crossroads
of your foreordained silence

The trees will sink deeper this season
The flowers would never have been so pale
And I will stand in serenity under their grand haloes
Where your shadows is bleek
under the very haze you set afloat


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