it was raining in my soul

Does a room full of sound
Of rain drops falling somewhere
need a heavy shower outside?

Can imaginations not paint for us the pictures
That it has been raining quiet sometime
And we are but weak quivering drenched souls?

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Hiraeth

At the end of the disaster that swept Our streets with the twilight And seeped into our hearts Like the moonbeams, What remained was a patch of purple On my dress. It was not your purple... It was of a mindful kid who drew blossoms of lavender on everything On my copies, my walls My dress. Yet why does a purple patch Like the twilight And the disasters Remind me of times That never were.

Short poem 1

My want for affection comes at inconvenient times and i hover around you like afternoon October shadows, lingering, ignored-- I disappear into the evenings.

Happy high and boundaries

Today we sat in a pub With a beer glass each And a pitcher kept at our side Which miraculously never emptied. We were drawing our lines Each with a chalk They blurred... We crossed.. And came back to our lives Tipsy. fudgy . Mud headed. You said .. we are two lost souls Drowning in a beer mug I corrected you... Nah... Drowned in beer pitcher You said with a long face... Do not look at the outside... And then the universe started to expand Or so my other drunk friend said.. (Rang me up) So the tiny bubbles oozed up to the surface And burst Like stars in the sky... And spread like dusts Across our universe Settled on our eyes... As we walked past slumber. We did not count how many fell In my side of the line And how many on your court...

THAT WHICH GOES UNSAID...

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