Tiles
Soaking in cold processed air
Licking with every step
feet bare and made damp
by the mornings dew

gooseflesh marks bare arms
baked from the sun
confused by the rain

mixed signals
from room to room
from out to in
in one moment bright and burning
energetic as the sun
in the next flashed by
new room
new rain

relationships half built
abandoned for the better option
lonely walks
awkward eye contact
misplaced affection
stretched thin and frayed

The gecko
stuck behind a glass door
is a better friend
a warmer soul
a more significant heat
sharing my own space

I orientate myself
from one room to another
different worlds cramped
on a single plot of land

Reason tells me I am not alone
the full bed sharing
my cold and processed space
says 'there are others like you'
but full fields I cannot open
full rooms I pass through
as a ghost through a wall
call 'you are lonely'
and there is no one
(but myself)
to blame

I’ve turned into a sad poem,
about loneliness,
about loss,
about jealousy,
about bitterness.

A poem about my inability
to properly express it in a
systematic, logical way.

It builds up fast,
like the tetris game
on hard mode,
and I didn’t even try to orientate
the ******* blocks
so that they fit
perfectly.

It just keeps on coming,
stacking and stacking,
until it hits the surface
and I can do nothing but
shiver and cry in
the pure agony of it.

I’ve turned into a sad poem.
Rain clouds haunt my steps
and I fall down,
slipping on my own tears.

My senselessness may crop up to celebrate
My beloved it will be good just to annihilate
My heart is passing through sheer darkness
Bring it to your light to make it illuminate
I am imprisoned by multifarious sins ,crimes
Please open the doors of mercy to extricate
I just want to see lightening with open eyes
You can take my soul from body to separate
I am in search of you my sweetheart to find
Come in me and make me just god incarnate
Mehr he should dawn upon me like real light
Give me knowledge about me to orientate

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow