It must've been the roses.
A splash of scarlet
The color of my insides –
the parts you said
you would love, too
even though you couldn't see them
But it was only a façade
The gardeners' remission
for the monochrome yard
It must've been the tears.
The saline driblets
that turned into a pool
and before I could
regret crying too much
I was already drowning
in my own blue –
transparent when I opened
my eyes underneath it
Bright but lonely
when nothingness engulfed me
It must've been the drinks.
The bottled-up potions
that bottled up our spilling emotions
A single sip and I was a diminution
of everything I have become,
in a world of vast illusion –
this world I couldn't seem to contain
while leaving a room for you
I remembered drawing a new Atlas
for this Wonderland of ours
Only to see it disappear with the Rabbit
among the evergreen grass
It must've been the games.
The sickening contests
that we bullied each other with
in the names of love and loss
There was no right or wrong
No winners or losers
Only the Knave a poet
And the Queen and King of no hearts
A croquet match without rules
A cat floating in mid-air without a body
The uncanniness that tickled my fantasy
The false hope that lured me
down the rabbit hole
It must've been you.
The White Hare with a pocket watch
Running here and there
Chasing an invisible thing
as if no one else could be as mad
Until I fell into dark hollowness
and forgot the touch of everything real
And by the time I wake up from this dream
I will have become a different person
I will have learnt to love everything
that reality thinks is wrong with me
 |
| The funeral of emotions |
