There are times i find it hard, to put words to the poems in my sister's eyes
Those times, i end up with poems like this;
Broken hearts learn to walk on their head
To places where love live in sad songs
They break their tongues into dark languages
- to call everything white, black
- to sing songs, holding memories of lost faces
- to tell of the lies in voices hiding behind flowers
- to proclaim gods as dogs and how they could leave girls, wandering in places they once called home
.
There are many reasons why boys are sometimes birds, straying with wounded wings - they are waiting for someone to home their emptiness
- they were born in places with walls painted with the images of ugly and lonely beings
- they're waiting for love in desolate places
- there are spaces in their bones, only happiness can fill
- no one listen to the sad notes in their heartbeat
.
'You don't live, searching men for a reason to live'
Says a philosopher with ten bruised heads
'You don't find home in people with white smiles,
They are sometimes open arms, with nowhere to embrace'- says a woman whose heart is a maiden with stolen pride
Love is a pen with diverse inks- beauty, peace, silence, tears, death, joy and sadness
They become what you choose to write with them
.
I was taught that love are houses, housing thousands of memories
Some memories are gardens with beautiful flowers
Some are gardens with flowers, carrying the smell of burnt virgins
While others are gardens where people dissolve into silent tears, reminiscing childhood dreams
It was how I knew, that love isn't a poem with lovely verses- but, a poem whose verses are light in dark souls (souls, love left with their skin)
.
Love is what resides in us, not in people- some are complex creatures who hurt the ones they love most
Love is God, it comes from homes within our heart