Three days ago 

I started dreaming

again    it's funny really

     nothing in current history

supports a fanciful 

musing   paced at three full

hours per juicy telenovela episode

     in reality probably three 

minute slips    only half-guilty

     What? Even dyed-in-wool

mud eyed mutton  

was a spring lamb once

upon a time too.

When I think of that night

 I smell wet burning leaves

And what remained of your perfume 

Under rain and sweat 

Clinging to your skin

Like I was 

It's all that's left 

Hints

Of who we were 

Once 

When we could still laugh

Faint

And fading more with each recall

I've tried to save it all 

By putting you out of my mind

And writing our bodies 

Line for line 

On crumpled notes

That I've stuffed so deep into 

The folds of this coat 

In hopes that I'll shed it for a new season 

But you're there

Faint 

In the summer when I'm bare 

I know it'll be easy to not think of the leaves 

Or when they'll fall 

Or that I'll have to gather them all 

But it will be brisk 

And I'll need this coat 

And I'll burn those leaves 

On a wet autumn evening 

I'm angry

I'm hollow

I'm hurt

I'm heavy

I can't keep my head up any longer.

These waves, 

These maddening tides,

Drag me under 

          again

        and again

And I feel that soon

I will drown.

I have nothing new to offer

But these ghosts of old wounds

That haunt my skin, my thoughts,

Scars I did nothing to earn.

I cry

I laugh

I stare

I break

He was the one born just after the dawn,

Simplest of features with eyes to look on....

Soon with the time he started to grow...

Experiencing the life with few highs and low...

Highs didn't matter but lows did leave a scar...

He found peace in being alienated by far...

Forced to be premature his childhood was lost,

Being more sensitive made him pay the cost...

Soon he learnt was the art of living it right..

Now you see in him was a person born to fight...

All the darken secrets were buried in his heart...

Hurt by love he believed time was a big flirt....

Masked with rigidity he was hard to prick...

All he now claimed was he is BORN MAVERICK!!!

But being a human with feelings is something which always takes a toll...

Somewhere you need to bleed and he now bleeds in his scrawl...

-Born Maverick

Look 

at me, No

look at me,

across a pregnant

divide, across 

an unbreachable

chasm, and see

Is the shame

familiar? Is it 

the skeleton

to your narrative

a poem, asthmatic,

not epic, collecting,

building, an exhaustive,

repetitive refrain?

Look, see, 

a blink reaction 

remorse

but do not 

commit me 

to this farce.