Wednesday, April 14, 2010

The Living Dead

The doors have been left ajar,
After you walked out.
And since then,
Everything stopped.
Like entrapped in a prism
With no way out,
The ray of light gropes in the dark.
The banks are now parched.
The gushing love no longer flows.
But hidden from daylight,
Like a subterranean river
Under the surface of the superficial world,
It secretly continues to trace its way
Back home.
Petrified and yet Numb,
With a crater in my heart;
I’ve been here for as long as
I could guess.
I look at my empty hands,
Those that were Skilled and Sure
With an artistic bend.
Frail, with no desire
To hold that brush again;
They’ve grown lifeless.
Words are fading,
Feelings are evading,
My identity bleaching.
Dark. Bitter. Silent. Numbness…
Consuming me.