You’ll find me
When the skies darken
The Eagles soar high above the clouds
Where the woods deepen,
The greens cover up like a shroud.
When the first drop tastes my lips,
More embrace me,
Seep within,
drench me to the bone,
Beat down harder,
And in ecstasy,
cry out loud.
_______________________
This post is a part of #MyFriendAlexa in association with Blogchatter.
Sundays are for the things you love.
For a dip within yourself.
For the memories that made you
And specially the ones that moulded you.
***
Sundays are for you
To love yourself, unwind yourself
To scatter the pieces of you
Carelessly, mindlessly.
***
Sundays are for the pajamas,
Messy hair, bad breath,
For strewing things around
To not care what people think.
***
Sundays are for you to go back
To your childhood,
Eat, say and do what you please,
Throw a tantrum when they say no.
***
As Sundays fade,
And you replace that chipped nail paint
With a bright shade, perfect coats,
Remember how it felt to be imperfect.
Look around at the perfect clothes
High heels, groomed beards
And realize they had their Sundays too
They have their masks on too. .
.
Sundays are for yourself
Every other day must be too. .
I am addicted to you.
Addicted to the searing pain
Coursing through my existence
When you caress
My gaping wounds.
In your absence
I notice,
My addictions are
Tearing me apart.
When you are
Beside me,
I realize,
I enjoy being torn by you.
Image courtesy –
abstract.desktopnexus.com
A Few Handpicked Things in Life 