Red

Moments, worthy of erratic heartbeats once,
Lie scattered on my floor,
Shards of shattered glass. Dipped in red.
Moments, that took my breath away, and yours perhaps,
Preserved for a future that didn’t come to be,
Make up a graveyard of love stories.
Silent screams fill the void inside,
Get drowned by whispers of memories.
Red was the hue of the skies then, the colour of love.
Red fills my room today, the colour of pain.

Photographs that once stopped time in its stride
Now revive the dead. Empty frames.
Do they rouse you on dark nights too?
Candles, witness to first love,
Refuse to light up the dark tonight.
Do silhouettes visit your walls too?
Sketches of us you once drew,
Are lifeless in their paper coffins now.
Do your strokes remember my texture still?
Flowers, that once lit up your face,
Now reek of promises not kept.
Does my scent linger on in your hair?
Songs we sung out of love, and tune,
Crawl out of the radio sometimes,
Do you sing along, or muffle our melodies?
Words, filled with meanings then,
Taste like blood in the mouth.
Do you savour it? Or spit it out?

Unrestrained love, a promise of forever,
Each one a love story like no other,
Now a corpse in my living room.
My house is full now. Did you bury them
In the backyards of your new homes?
Or do they fill your closets too?
Tumbling out of secret spaces often.
Grim reminders of a beautiful past. Us.
Dead. But not quite.

I gave you each a piece of me,
A part of my soul never returned.
Preserve them, for that’s all that remains
When i’m gone, stitch them together,
Or keep me a piece each,
I shall live on with you. But not quite.