The petals of the garden tulips are still feather soft The muddy green rain is cold on my warm skin The inky cream paper swims before my eyes As I crumble all over it like the dry plaster Of an abandoned house with no lights.
When nostalgia creeps up and whispers sweet nothings in my ear I close my eyes and wish away the moments that to me are so dear I breathe in the dusty smell of the present which reminds me I am dead but alive And I exhale harshly, hoping to do away with the feelings that … More I was.
My window has changed colours Since the time we last met The green leaves are no longer lush They have turned into hues of Yellow and Orange and Red and Brown Then they finally withered away Floating like dry blank bits Of torn paper in the cold breeze The sun is no longer bright It … More The Window
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