Umbra

It's been a while
Since we've had a conversation, dear Heart
"Mitescere", I used to whisper ,gently
When you got too loud, didn't I?
You've been quiet of late
And I know better not to shoot the arrows of blame
You should take your time snapping out of that one
Though it's a shame that a fine fellow such as you
Was reduced to mere flesh and blood, and a few bits of reason
There's been this heaviness, lo, at the back of my skull
Makes it laborious to rise in damp mornings
Air weighs heavy on one's chest ,even

I've been meaning to confess, been keeping this scrape in my purse

And I wrote when I got tired of carrying thoughts too hefty

For my head

No one quite understands, when I speak of these things
Flustered, their eyes would implore and beseech
For a window of humor
To break the silence
A guest so brusque, uninvited, he marches in
Unannounced
Entitled to all the space in between
And I've gotten tired, of this state of drowsiness
You taught me to align my words for the day,
On the ceiling, while I rested and my lax muscles gathered the grit
To live
Scatter them flat like newborn constellations
Lest I forget, of the rites of healing
How to lull myself into numbness, again
When night has fallen
But did you notice that faint shudder
In my ring finger ? My right eyelid jerks frenziedly
At random times of the day
Makes it hard to presto
Indeed, people have no manners these days
Opening doors sealed shut and slamming them loud
On their way out
Of my heart
And my heed
Clenching their fists on my anemic soul
Till it bleeds some mellowness
Then some more
Till it dries
And when they find nothing left to take
They take off
Kinda feels like I've been watching my shadow
Pale, bashful to wrinkling
While I stood in motion, it took off in hesitation
Possibly, it finds no appeal in lingering
I'm not a hero one would care to follow, you understand
And ,did you know ? Get this
Remember how I took pride and joy
In my vehement candidness, of sorts
Out of all my sorts I took pleasure in rinsing my tongue
Fresh, of all that reeked with the odor of qualm
Begotten by the waist, this sole child of my conscience
Whipped into shape by much tribulations,
Compelled to flatness many a tantrum of rage
Hindered motives for revelation, and defeated means of articulation
And here I am, surrounded in a dark corner
By my own
Twenty five years of age
And I wouldn't have known
That I told the truth, bare and wholly
Spared no chance to empty clean
What rested moldering in my spleen, solely
Because it drove what's left of my kindred
Out of my heart
Out of my heed.