Smell of a soft wind of may coming from my balcony's door
Red curtains of my room were flitting around
Winter has worn its red dress and asked:
How long would a funeral last?
An unknown call on my telephone
Petrified when I heard the tone
Sound of a shooting gun
Same old friday
Considering how the day had begun
I had locked your voice in
a deserted grave in heaven
Why did you call me Kevin?
Your voice was flowing like a
poisonous acid into my ears
Bringing back all my worst fears
Kevin was a boy wearing men's clothes
Finding perfect houses with big porches
And giving perfect oaths
But he never gave me promise.
Just an intangible napkin
to dry my sorrowful eyes
That his making me laugh was
hell of a paradox
Smiling like a child but smelling like a man
His cheeks were as red as the roses in his tired dirty hands
Visions floating through the air reeled me in
He was only twenty-two but I respected him
Like the respect in his name or
on the restaurant signboard
Crumbles of love were on the tip of his sword
He stood up as I came into the room
but I ignored
Tombs of my hopes are now
filled with decaying bones
What could I write on the gravestone?
I've turned on the lights of my room
Because in the dark I see your face
which I buried in a cemetery in my head
You shot me in the ear
I stayed stock-still
Waiting for your ghost to leave
Voices in my head taunting me and saying
"You're sick in the head
What is gone is long gone but
"You're in the hope of seeing him at the wake "
In the name of something you respect
Dont try to mess with my mind and
leave me bereft
YOU ARE READING
IT ALL STARTED AT 8 P.M
PoesiaThey thought I was talking in fact; as they were listening to me I was keeping quiet. Then I started to write. First I thought what I was supposed to keep quiet. Then I wrote a word of what I couldn't say out loud. I wrote more, they became lines a...
