there's this feeling of shallow disquiet in the acceptance of something that you know would you be your nemesis. your tragic flaw. the reason of your ruin. a teardrop in your holy grail.
yet there exists a placid familiarity in lying shattered in the shambles. you know the wreckage too well now to cling to this hopelessness called hope. you are too used to them leaving that you choke on your own voice when you try to say, 'stay'.
there's this feeling of belonging no where, fitting no where. every place makes you feel too much. or too less. no city under the sky feels like home. not anymore.
no words pacify your frail heart now, no pages of novels to provide you solace. you feel hollow, like those promises written on the shore of time, washed away by the callous currents of life. hollow like an empty vessel, cracked at the bottom. an ephemeral abyss like life itself.
unpredictability is comfortingly predictable now. for you know that there's exists no consolation when you know you are homeless.
there's this feeling of hopelessness as i see aeons melt away into transience by your side. my skin shudders under the touch of your cold fingers while the sunset taints the sky into shades of red, orange and yellow. and it hangs too tired now, breaking apart every now and then.
poetry abandons us in this hour of the evening. so, we whisper a prayer without words. you and me - we sin with silence.
there's a feeling of dull mundanity when you know that you don't expect too much from the day that is slowly dawning upon you. time withers in these hands ever so slowly, and the more I try to hold on to us, the more we slip by. sliver by sliver, this affection cascades down into nothingness.
there's an ache buried in the threshold of my waist, mourning the slow death of what we used to be. and what is left of us now.
I am home to all the coldness in this world on a December night. my cracked doors, standing like tired question marks, are always open for you. hoping that maybe you'd stumble on your way back home? maybe you'd take refuge in me, just once more?
in the beginning of this inevitability called love, you told me how you would never let us fade out into oblivion. never would these memories turn to dust. how you'd always hold on to this essence of what we are, before we become nothing from everything.
then lost in the alleys of uncertainty, in the lanes of life, I watched us disintegrate, like dandelion seeds into the air, carried away somewhere without choice, without chance.
but love, there's this feeling of hopelessness when this realization sweeps deep into the realms of my fragile bones,
what is darkness, untainted by the frail edges of light? what is that expanse of my skin, untouched by those hands of your love?
Is not this boundless, moonlit sky - a residue of a lifetime of light? And is not my flimsy existence - a mere remnant of us?
this feeling of intense yearning - i rise and fall each time you breathe in the same air as me, my lungs and this lifetime of breaths yet to be breathed - doesn't longing after sometime look like a face of love?
so tell me, are you holding on to me, still?
- Kainat // of endless darkness and empty hopes __________________________