November 11, 2016
It is the end
I want to believe
that I would expose it all
Tell the truth finally
Tell you everything I’ve ever kept hidden
The feelings that were too ugly to reveal
Because if it is the end
my reasons for hiding myself no longer matter
But it is the end
and it no longer matters
I will shield you from the dark truth
Might as well
It is the end
it won’t end with fire. or ice. it will just end.
one day we’ll lie down together, and look at each other, and laugh. cry. talk about our day.
think about our eyes and the colors they change to. think about each other, and our past, and our future.
what has been and what will be.
who will be.
where we will be.
and one day, at the end of the day, we wont know it, but it will be the last time.
i don’t know if i want to know what awaits
is it gardens and oceans and flowers and sand and rivers of milk and honey
is it the arched gate i always pictured up in the clouds
or is it the alternative
am i sinking into the quicksand more and more each day
its probably neither
there’s probably nothing in either direction
and then we’ll disappear
the thought is hard to wrap my head around we are so caught up
in thinking we are so significant
we have to have souls
that will last forever
that will stay somewhere in this strange world
haunting our futures
and our pasts
The world ended over and over for you
When you didn’t get that toy you wanted from the store
When you had that nightmare
When you scraped your knee
When you fainted
When he didn’t like you back
When they moved far away
When it broke
And yet when you woke in the morning you felt better
The world restarted
Everything felt new
And everything was ok
What makes you think this time will be different?
When I Say Yellow
It has been a fortnight
Since cold ran me down,
Mercury heightened up,
I had so many plans
To study long nights,
Adorn my balcony with festive lights,
All of them…. Bedridden.
O Mirror, dear fellow,
Eyes are yellow,
My leather tanned yellow,
Is it a whim of Halloween
That removed all my mellow?
In me, all yellow.
Outside, all yellow.
What I eat, yellow.
My dreams, yellow.
That sweet-lime poured in a glass,
Ripe lemons cut my lips like knives,
Sugarcane: the sweetener in an injection
And grams.. The only solid intake.
Fantasies crave in me now;
Pizza smeared with Parmesan,
A crackling dish of fries,
No. O, no. They will rust my liver,
As if it hasn’t by now!
No more do I care of
This mettlesome heart,
Steadily I am falling apart.
A last wish before I sleep,
The next morning light,
If not bright.
Edil Christian is a writer currently based in India.He is engrossed in literature and art craft forms. His work has appeared in the Yellow Chair Review. He enjoys the vivacity in smallest of things like a LED bulb or a doormat. You can find more of his poetry on twitter @edil_christian