Familiarity

9th April, '09

Harsh words flying around the room,
like sparks from an blacksmith's fire,
like ripples on clear soft puddles,
like a blood-stain on a white handkerchief.
Splattering the walls,
entering the spaces between us,
forming entities on their own,
entities that clutch at our limbs,
and drag us further apart each minute.
The walls ooze conclusions,
the ground stinks of bitterness,
the tomorrows disappear like trees in the fog.

A bright clear morning,
eyes awaken to dreams gone hazy,
an effort to reassemble the puzzle,
to make it fit better.
A hollowness follows me around,
like my beloved child,
sounds from the other room,
boom across the walls,
sending my thoughts helter-skelter each time.
Life has to go on,
clothes get ironed,
breakfast is made,
like the termites oblivious to the sinking ship,
the little details are unaffected.
Our paths cross,
space is shared, unwillingly willing,
my mind can only sense you,
in all the chaos.
An instant, the instant,
our skins touch, ever so briefly,
a mundane question,
a crack in the glass,
the wall shattered by the smile in your eyes.
The metal is only stronger,
The puddle is calm once more,
The blood-stain on the handkerchief,
is where its beauty lies.