Riverside

A broken kite shall not fly
Unless the strongest of the winds blow
Yet, it flies frigid, morbid, a stark memory
Of it's former glory
Thrust into a lateral plane
Wayward, irrelevant, and a sight for an eye to go sore
It is still a kite, only formerly and to those who knew it
Such is the apathy of ones in love
For love is like a sudden gust of wind
Only to fade and eject the soul
Into boundless drudgery
Of cataclysmic proportions
Yet on the outside, the soul seems to not seem so
I know the rivers of such
For my raft has sunk in the same
Too often than not
And now I walk by the banks
Of said river, sans the drench
For I have no inclination
For love is what I have known to be
A mere figment of a delusional mind

Gentle , the night is bitter
The words are worse than hemlock
Yet you share
Even when you needn't
Subtle
The absence, yet so much worse than a nail
Inching into my fingers
Quite is such
Such is your absence
Spelt in debauchery
Worse than chaos, for it spawns order
Your not being around is far more
Yet I pass by
The very image of what I know
In sheer acceptance
Ridiculed by the soul
Of you being long gone
Or going away
Even post my prophylaxis
Your attributes dawn on
As if to torment
Gnaw at my heels
In your sense of privity
Or my sense of depravity
Neither mattered
For neither would have
Neither should I fathom
For you or your essence is erased by you
With turpentine
Dissolved
The colours bleached in an oxymoronic elegance

Rifted

Between you and me
Either strong, maybe stronger
Yet you evade
As you always have
And here I am seeking nothing but your words
And you have enough reasons
Some valid some not
Some quantifiable some inane
But it won't matter, for they don't to you
So shouldn't to me
Right?
Yes, for you won't know
For you know only you