There are a million capsized days
when I see you floating
in the distance
just before the horizon
hiding my defeated sun
with your cloaked mist.
Wanna believe that
you intentionally don’t go
behind those curtains.
The veil is your catharsis,
Reasons…my nemesis.
Your musk,
that you loaned to me once,
Please know, that
I still carry it in my tote.
Still marinate my breath in it.
You would ask me
to wash my hair everyday.
Those incensed hair…
are they still your deliverance?
Do they still make you heady?
Heady enough for you
to still remain behind the curtains?
I was never really very reasonable.
So don’t justify..
your fragmented sore eyes to me,
I think I told you once,
they are plain beautiful!
they give you away…
and they travel to me still,
still in the first whiff of
another darned capsized day.
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