Poems of Pain and Solitude

Chapter 3: dew

It's the lazy spring, it's the wake of nature,

As the sun makes promises always broken at dawn,

As we wonder why dawn is called aurora but dusk has no name.

It's the rainy season, it's the mist fogging up the car window,

As the rain falls like curtains around us,

As we wonder why we can see rain fall but not soar back to the heavens.

They used to say: "What a shame, to love so ardently,

A heart that is unlovable by the breakable."

Now when I look around, you're everywhere;

Flickering in the lamp post lights,

Whispering, breathing in the morning hurt,

Clinging onto me like snow does to hair on the winter nights.

Can you see it? Can you see it?

Everywhere. Inside. Outside. Everywhere.

Only the fools are blind, and what a euphoria that must be.

It's in the blinding gold of the daylight,

It's in the darkest blues of the nightfall,

You're in the searing pain that I feel when I look at decayed ashes.

Monday morning, you came running towards me,

Catch your breath. Catch me, catch me. Am I falling?

You told me to wait for you. If you asked me to you know I'd wait

A million ages, I would wait a million years if it meant hearing your panting breath

Every morning again. A million years

To feel the rapturous thrills when your lights bloom over my shadows.

"I wanted to apologize," your voice brushed my heart.

But oh my love do you know how apologies work?

All the sorrys you plead, are they desire for forgiveness?

Or are they a sinful demand for something else,

Disguised under lyrical words?

Haven't we all fallen into the trap of the words "I'm sorry" before?

The beat of your heart, it's a melody, it's my anthem.

Looping, an indelible lilt, the pace, the darkness, the volume,

I can still recall every single note, it runs free in my thoughts,

And occasionally I can hear it play from the piano room of my house

While I write poems about souls trapped in bodies that feel like cages,

While I write songs about hearts freed by the ones they're haunted by.

Tuesday morning, I was the one that came running towards you.

But I know that I have no breath to catch.

I think I will forever be haunted by the look in your eyes.

"I'm sorry. I..." You shook your head and whispered a scarred oath,

...I don't have no heart to love.

My heart knows better than to love you. But I would for a lifetime.

Don't you think there is a secrecy in the way water pearls on the leaves in the morning,

Upon all the wrinkled leaves of the reviving evergreen?

A sinful delicacy. A forbidden silence. An ethereal grace.

Dew discreetly appearing. Coming when no one looks,

Multiplying until they invade the leaf, they cast their silhouettes

Until the green is soaked, until the green is drowning.

When leaves get clogged with dew, they are stains.

Marks. Traces. Scars.

And once they are here, you need to wait for the next dawn

To conquer the space, to soak your rain.

But I am afraid, so afraid.

Terrified.

My love,

Don't find another leaf to dew

Your ravishing jewels with

When I have no more space,

Would you wait,

For the next morning?