There comes a time when it's no longer about me or you.

For some reason, let today be the beginning of that time.

Now on, we are forgotten memories. lost dreams. shredded ideas. aimless conversations. half read books. we are faded colors. unfinished poems

We are a life that's going no where. static, stochastic

Now on, we are no longer us/

Like bodies flung apart..illusions torn apart. whims unexcused. sleepless nights

Unshed tears. suppressed sighs

We are a cold unfeeling night. the realization, of a deep loss. Loss of a thing that probably never was.

We're a crumbling house of cards. Shrinking into each other, enveloped by vacuum

You and I are an unfinished poem. A meaningless poem. Just like this one


Winter Song said...

This is lovely. :)

MothSmokeLover said...

Some poems need to stay unfinished because sometimes its too painful to live out the entire experience.

As usual I loved the read!

Ankur said...

The cold exterior of detachment clashes beautifully with the undercurrent of hopelessness..... It was anything but meaningless !!

................your's entirely said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
................your's entirely said...

This is a masterpiece !