The words go unspoken,
And reflections go downstream,
Where drowning memories cannot breathe.
In a sight, in a word,
I am prey to the screams,
Beautifully painted comets rain on me,
But only when I blink.
And the poorest soul never comes to know,
That the softest words come shallow,
When they reach a heart that is cold,
Pushing, feebly, against a stronghold.
I believe that when love is real,
when time sends you afar,
The heart never seals,
Even as it falls apart.
Coursing rivers come swiftly,
and I stare into them coolly,
Every moment goes by me,
Memories with you where I won't be,
Flow by me quietly...
In their quiet I find disquiet,
and to their dispassion I scream,
And still,
And always,
I can't take them with me.
And how stories like these go,
You may land,
You may feel cold,
But will you move on?
Even as I run,
Towards the reflections that are far gone,
Lost forever in their shadows.
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Music
PoetryA collection of poems written to soundtracks which are there for you to play.
