Bottled Up Thoughts

 Two quarters past 5, We sit there, watch the sky lay a saffron lilac spread, As if setting the sun asleep After a long day. Slowly as things unfold, Like some layers of insecurities And of love; You felt like the courtyard Of some old fort, With such high walls None could ever break into. /Time lapse/ A quarter past 8, We walk by the footpath as our shadows follow, Like it's just you and me  in this whole world. One of the stars falls by And we watch it still. We talk of the silliest, of the adorable springs, And of the lush green plants. Of failing a subject or two, And of lives and death. /Time lapse/ It's three quarters past 9, Another star goes down. This time I see it, I make a wish To always stick by you, thru your thick and thins. Stick by you like the Ursa major  and it's seven stars, that we spot each day. To stay constant in your sky Blooming white daisies  and greeny plants, All year long. -J.

My thoughts have yet again slipped away, sliding through the spaces of my fingers staining poetry across the sheets. Another night's gone, and oh, I wonder: Have the words fallen  or made 'em all fall? My poems make soft love, floating gently across the pauses of yours breaths, and the spaces in your curves.  On chilled nights, they're the winds binding you closer  to the shrugs of actuality. On the sober midnights, they're the drunk dials to past loves, taking guilt trips to confessions: buried deep under forbidden sins. On pleasant evenings, they're the last sip of tea that you wished lasted a little longer, They're satisfying urges and your day-dream fantasies. Like the sky shedding its shades, my poems shift shelters: seeking homes in people or seeking people in homes. Wanderers as they are, have yet again slipped away. -J.

Goodbyes are the saddest part  even of the greatest stories. Hard to voice and harder to leave. They say we never give enough time for a loved one's departure. So I turned you into poetry keeping you alive between the lines. Now I think of you in multiples of twelve. Twelve minutes past our first meet, we exchanged nervous smiles  across the beds. In the twenty-four hours that followed, We bonded over a million sicknesses  and sour soups. I faintly remember, It took you thirty-six failed trials  to rightly pronounce my two-syllable name. Forty-eight hilarious jokes later, we knew we were stronger  than our illnesses combined were. Lying in the critical care unit for sixty days straight, we now wake up to pills and hopelessness or mostly the latter. Admiring our seventy-second sunset you told how when young, sunsets fascinated you the most; I couldn't un-see that spark in your eyes. The eighty-fourth sunshine set me free from that room which forever smelled like anti