It’s a windy day, and you’re boomerang in my mind, or rather a yo-yo back and forth, incessant mayhem, never lost.

Although to and fro I still search for you;

I still check the tree where we carved our initials to see if it burns with the same passion we once shared. All the while reminiscing, giggling about the prospect we told, about sharing our finite eternity together.

I still place my forefingers on the left side of my chest and the underside of my chin (the familiar one, which your hands couldn’t bear the urge to explore) and wonder if our hearts have remained in sync.

I still flick through the photos we took, negating me, so my eyes could hold you solely as the centrepiece. And as you encapsulate my peripheral, your statuesque looks through me, my attempts to meet her gaze are done with unfound desperation.


Now I peel the bark from the tree to unearth the truth, the once tree of life is now cold. Gone.
I need not check the rate of your pulse, as mine exists in irregularity when my thoughts are of you, and yours remains a constant “Ba-dum”, with no reason for variation.

Alas, as the “what’s” turn into “when’s” and the “where’s” transpire into the “why’s”.
A “who” is never uttered, for who else but you?

The doves coo for a mating call
I hold our umbrella with profound gall
For when Eros’ teardrops fell from the skies
I’d bear the brunt, put on a front
And give you our umbrella, just to dry your eyes

So, when winter comes and I call out your name
The cold of your nature dulls my flame
Fortune changes and shifts the tapestry
Thus, I pray for a kiss, and cling on to bliss
And sheath my heart, in vain, just to escape this tragedy

Leaves dance; leave--forsake  
Chides the rose, plight, soft peril   
"-my dolce headache”