Cherry Flavoured Antacids
Prose, Poetry and Random Musings.

And I'm sorry.

Category: , , , By Homer Simpson!

It was there on his locker, a small, unobtrusive flash of color against the cold-looking expanse of metal. Frowning to himself he opened the locker to have 'it' flutter to the floor. There it was, a Post-It note, in a cheery shade of blue and folded in half. The poem was on a sheet of printer paper this time, hastily folded, the ink smeared slightly. He saw that the page was nearly full.
The writing slanted to the right, the letters small and looping, without any sharp lines or straight angles. It was writing he knew all too well. A sigh escaped his lips and the paper crumpled in his fist as explanations hovered around him like a mist and he wondered. He licked his lips as he began to read.

How shall I live, unless I die?
How shall I laugh, unless I cry?
Ain't no truth, without the lie
Ain't no black, without the white
But love is true and Yes, so am I.

The fire in you burns me bad.
I'll never stop reaching for that flame.
Your enthusiasm drowns me in exuberance.
I keep charging against humongous waves.
I would die not to see the land again.

When stars cry and angels die,
That's when I'll give up befriending you
When the children don't ask, "Why?"
And the bird with clipped wings flies,
That's when I'll take my love back from you

I would and will give it all away for them.
For one look, one tough sigh, one day of us, together
Only then could I die happy in the end
But you'll never say it, you'll never stay
And I'll be autonomously all alone again

As I've reached out, so have you lashed out
Shouted, glared to let me know you don't care
I am now, that crying star about to die in disgust.
That dying, falling angel as a piece of trash.
But I will never ever. Never, stop asking, "Why?"

Your vulturous looks leave scars on my face
I ditched the umbilical to be with you
None can drive madness into me as you do
Sans everything, it'll still beat for you
My breath. My steps. Everything will speak of you.

My sticks and stones, they break your bones
My lustful sighs. My dreams. My little why's
My words have always hurt you. In the dark.
I have always heard your anguished groans
And I'm sorry, 'cause now, I hate to love you.

The man grew unconscious of his senses. Skipped a few more heartbeats. The sun ditched the horizon and his motivation ditched his self belief. Unsure, still his heart wanted him to wait. The metal suddenly grew colder. The colors became vacuous. Unaware of the emptiness, he scribbled back - " And I'm sorry. Not for what I did. But for what I didn't ".


PS: Unlike my style. I tried to be easy.