It was those days of rough waves,
I was soaked.
Water oozing from every tiny bit of fabric I wore.
The heaviness of coverings,
Pulling me down.
The leather jacket,
Was keeping all the cold sweat to myself.
Opening my swollen eyes,
I lay idle on the same beach themed pillow wrapping.
The soaked beach was all dry.
As sultry as my days.
Every day was a ghost after the heart break,
Some shapeless cloud,
Casting a shadow over,
Reminiscence of the smiles.
I was a boy,
Empty as a kitten thrown off a bridge.
Restless to hear the calling voice.
Imbecile, for the voice had already faded away.
Berserk,on all bizarre happenings around.
The rage within escapes,
Like lava pouring out of tiny pores,
Red, hot and crude.
Then came the summer rain,
Washing away all the ashes,the remains,
Cleansing all the dirt gently.
It came from a distant past,
Past so dark,where it couldn't drip.
Taken along with the tempest.
Rage subdued, horizon cleared.
And on the cross roads we met.
