35 and Counting


The rejection battered heart
Softens, pales, listens to the undercurrents
Undertones that used to be stone deaf
And soon you have ghosts chasing you
Of the one that was – and still is
Or the one that spilled over
From friendship

And soon you become your own ghost
Harboring on what a hardened heart only knows
The limp in your step,
The curvature of your spine,
The pessimism in your voice,
And the cynicism in your body language
All closes in on your aging self

And that enclosure becomes all too familiar
Too real, that you feel time capsizing
You over and over in the same island
And that notorious sequence
Drives you like a piece of driftwood
To a place where you least expected to be
When you like absentees on your own merit
Softened by disenchantment
Rusting away to the nonchalant passage
Of time, when your only solace is the man on the mirror
The two faces of Jekyll and Hyde
Staring through naked glass

On occasion, an isle of a shattering loneliness
At times, paradise of solitude

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.