Tuesday, 22 March 2016

Bonjour: The Art of Getting by…

I suspect the memories are beginning to fade and the rest is half-forgotten. All that the mind has held will fade, eventually, with its acquaintance with different types of love. If I could go back in that brief moment where our lives overlappeda time travelled deeply into nonexistenceI'd breakaway from it, with no bearing, no memory. I know you continue to exist in the darkest corners of my thoughts, at times, enveloping your entirety into my single blink.

Too profound to fathom, too shallow to be held.

Every thought of you leaves your imprints in blue; my mind appears to be a shore enduring its seething violent waves with ochre foam. Your voice waves in from remembrance so naturally and evokes a sense of timelessnessand of our enmity with time.
And your picture is a visual cacophony with edges smeared outwards, holding the boundaries and colours together in resting silence.
Your mere existence washes over me, but for now, in this lifetime, the prelude is fading and the epilogue is half-forgotten.



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