A Painter’s Confession

With every brush stroke, each curve and line, I sought you, and returned with nothing but a canvas. And in the end, I sit amongst paintings, lying on the floor, hanging from the walls, leaning against table and chair at odd angles, resting on every conceivable surface, in a room filled, with you. And upon [...]

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Sigh

Tomorrow, may be, another day
But nobody knows,
Our secrets, in whispers, and sighs.

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Face

I drew her in the sand
And there, she lay
A specter, of me
But waves, of doubt, and change
Stole her face
Yet faceless, wordless
She spoke, without a mouth
And without eyes, she saw
My death, as I watched
Her/I  fade.

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