Senses

Her life was an experience of heightened senses. A cautious undercurrent.
The sensations grew stronger, and, they threatened to deafen the sense of touch. She would not know the touch of grass, the vibrancy of colours, the flowing river from a placid lake.
And then he decided to leave her, just like that. Said, that he felt constricted, that there must be life outside this heart of hers. His calling was one of derangement. She could not fight to hold him. Her sensitivity won over.
And then it happened. She could feel the touch of grass, the vibrancy of colours, the flowing river from a placid lake.
His deafness had made him immune to all senses.

The love street

His was the brightest house on the street. The street had no lights, as they never needed any.
Each morning a sealed box was delivered to his doorstep and he stocked it with the rest. There were times when he wondered what the boxes might contain, but then he just as quckly forgot. One morning they delivered a heart. He did not know what to do with it. It occupied a place on his table and for long, it stayed there.
On a day in fall, she asked for his heart; and he gave her the one on the table. Their children were born with a heart in their hands.
As they walked up the street the people, often looked the other way, lest they go blind.

Patterns in time

He drew, since always, but he drew on ground that was wet with the smell of soaked mud. She drew too, what he drew; but her art was wavy and shades of black.
Each rain he stepped out onto a barren piece of land and sketched lines of purpose, lines that promised time. She sat a distance and drew lavish visions of gray. His seat by the river was her haven, only the colour of leaves changed. Lines burried deeper into snow as he walked to a promise. Lines burried deeper as she lingered to a hope.
His road back was blurry. The promise of time eroded his purpose.
She feared that she drew better.

Fall

I started out to race
And I lost time;
As it all collapsed on me;
The whole space exploding
To singularity!

I walked on past the high dreams
Of myraid steps and lost screams,
Flashes of a road
Long deserted,
The setting flame a hue of Orange
An expansive barren land that welcomes,
Comforting pain, they say;
I started out....

The ground has ulcers that sting the feet,
Craving for human contact;
Relief again, again the pain.
A compulsive indulgence of pleasure
I remember,
I started out...