Pain is a Patient Lover

February 24, 2018

No, keep that soft rain that reminisces against the window
pane like the tinkling of wine glasses, keep that sky, sparkling


in the froth of kinetic light, that wind slipping through the trees
in timeless laughter, keep your dazzling festivity, that universe


dancing slowly to the rhythm of your faithlessness, what can I
say about a firmament in which even an implosion of celestial


inconsequence is a ballad of colour and sound? I will grow your
absence in the silent darkness of my grief, you know that too is


a petri dish of amorphous life. Pain is a patient lover who begs

celebration in solitude, long after the histrionics have paled,


when the masks hang from a silver hook, when the memories
stain open lips and the black curtain has uncurled in a whisper.


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