Tired of your games..

The moon is a pan of flimsy tin
The sun a mere braggart
The evening skies are shameless
Flaunting their russet skins

You love burying yourself
Irretrievably
In abysses of the past.

Loud trumpet calls, parades
And red banners you detest
Secrets are your retreat
In midnight sleep
You whisper words of comfort
Grasping my fingers tight.

Thief
Sometimes I could
Slit your emptiness with a knife
Wanderer Conman
Dreamless sleeper
A violence in me quivers
To conquer your silence.

Pretender Liar
Plunderer of loneliness
Drag those heavy caskets of kisses
Hidden in your cave of solitude
And plod homeward soon..
Else
Let my remnants
Haunt your green box..

14 thoughts on “Tired of your games..

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