You travel to me…

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.