Even though the grey clouds
Bring out the peacock in my heart…
A long spell of rain,
Tends to wash down more than I can bear.
Just as the overly priced couture,
Tardily sitting in my closet,
Now gives me a worthless stare.
And suddenly the whole room around me turns into a cardboard box,
A dull sullenness fills every nook of it.
The ocular reality is now directed by my brain
To make sense of the repetitive strain
Of the life we live everyday
Somehow in that few seconds when I looked for you,
in the creases of my loveless sheets,
The emotion struck eyes could see
The whole world in some tinted shades,
And now that the hands are full once more
You will be written off
in some humdrum list
of life’s chores.
The moment that
Steals from us,
The fragrance of a new flower
And turns it notoriously mundane.
How can I avenge a murder?
A murder of my poetic vision,
veered from its eccentricity again.
Mnemonics to remember,
Or a challenge to find your gaze
That had set it free in the first place,
Is the question at stake.
I close them,
I see through my lids
The cardboard box again.