Two left feet.

 I stood there, waiting in the dark-
Quietly watched you disembark.

Your eyes said a different story,
demarcated by your pride and glory.

A dusty smile blanketed your face,
as you succumbed to an unlocked embrace.

A hundred constellations instantly shattered,
as chaotic shades of heartache spattered.

Words trickling down my misty eyes,
wanting you to drop the disguise,

Your indifference traveled through each hole,
and its pain dug deep through my soul.

The empty street and the peaceful silver,
the truth that isn't and the fearful quiver,

You say you know it all,
yet not ready to let me take the fall.

So, yet again,
we fix everything in sight,
and, two left feet FELT right

Seared love, torrid nullity.

Everything that once existed, withered and became quiet
in the darkness of those four walls and the silence of the night.

She put away the smile that she had borrowed,
and sought solace in the tears that followed. 

A tattered, dusted photograph, the only light she'd see.
A shooting pain emanated at its lapsed guarantee.

Shattered, torn and bruised inside,
She suckled tears as a lonesome child

Blistered by blazes of shame and doused in the puddles of blame,
smothered by emotions as she locked her eyes to the eyes in the frame.

And one more time, it felt right; it felt right to cry a little more,
in the treacherous sea of nothingness, it still looked like a beautiful shore.

A not so darkling journey, after all.

In eternity, there is all the time in the world. It's a myriad space of everlastingness. And there, you have all the time to change, all the time to evolve, to detract. Anything but constant. In the broader spectra of eternity, death is not the end; it is simply a pause, a lacuna before you're addressed to the next lap- next life. And once you step there,  you're never the same again. Change is all you've brought with you, and change is all you'll take away. One  being the gift of life, the other, of death.

Beneath a thousand laughs.

Frozen and motionless.
Undisturbed and still, as she lay.
The poignance in my air paved way for a deep sense of dismay.

Quiet and unruffled.
She looked at peace, more beautiful than ever.
Flourishing in the springs of heaven, now and forever.

--

This starry night, I want to make you seem alive.
I am going to write you again.
One more time, Get you with me, to my empty terrain.

When his eyes met hers, he stared into them. Deeply.

Long, curly eye lashes. Big eyes. Deep brown. Beautiful.

The kohl in the sides of her eyes had smudged because of weeping. Beautiful, nevertheless.

The innocence in them, the spark in them, though wry, the pain in them, plunged a hole at the center of his heart; in a blink of an eye. 

Who says, eyes aren't a heart's a mirror? 

Who says that eyes aren't a soul's a mirror?