When the Poet met Sadness, both breathed heavens

Into their lives of nothingness.

Without her, his words had no power. Joy and

Happiness were not enough for his

Deep blue ocean

Of imagination — she fulfilled

A dream


When Sadness met the Poet, she wanted

A suicide pact… Or a kiss! It didn’t matter… She’d jump

From the window; she’d just


To the direction where he was standing,

Carrying her ropes of words and

Their shared memories of pianos and guitars


In the end, she lost him

When he disappeared in his snowy lines of cocaine


In the end,

Sadness was a poem without any words.

A blank canvas in front of a sudden

Abyss. A tight grip in the chest of a

Dying bastard who will never,

Never leave




17 thoughts on “Romance

  1. and this is an epic without wax, o the bliss of the snowy lines… it almost made me relapse back into the shady realm of nostalgia. your way of narration is unique. most of us writing in the 1st person tend to get away with subtle self pride (kind of narcissistic) but your words are soaked in enough humbleness to make them universal! kudos!

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I haven’t met such a person yet. Oh, no, I have. The same effects.

        Nah, few things can shock me. I’d just be extremely flattered! And I’d probably blush a little, too.

        Just don’t think I’m bewitching you — I already have a bewitched surrealist to deal with.

        Liked by 1 person

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