It is the Song of the Atmosphere
By Fiza Pathan
It is a raindrop away from my window ledge, and a teardrop away from the brine in my eyes.
It comes as no surprise therefore, that in the silence of my memory, I am remembering our day of love.
It was the day you presented me with a bouquet of red and yellow roses, that outshone yourself in my innocent estimation of you.
It came as a surprise therefore when the wind of the present, pricked me with the rose thorns of love in peril.
It was a cry of the banished that I wailed, to the withered flowers in my arms clutched to my bosom.
It was my silence the loudest cry I could yell to you from the gates of the forgotten and the ones you threw away;
Dearest for as sure as the sun brings heat, I was just one of those you threw away.
It therefore came as no surprise to me,
When after marring my existence to crumbles pecked by raven
You went off and paired yourself with my best friend.
It was a hard battle of cries for me to face,
Pillows full of tears and wrists slashed into daggers pierce so red and lifelike.
It therefore is no surprise to me that I’m scattered to fly in the breeze.
For I am the atmosphere-I have no home and no lover, as I drift towards eternity and infinity.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image Courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/891295