The Darklings

Angry, the wind howled
I chose the frosty moonbeam, over
the raging fire, blessed by hell
my own twin flame

Banished in death,
I wandered the weathered land
Chained, cursed by your love
as dark as my sinful soul

My heart denounced me
tormented, by your betrayed eyes
Guilt ruled by the day,
reigned, mauled me by the night

Lonely, I treaded the moor
paralysed with the avenging ice
Devil didn’t claim me, my love
He knew without me, you can’t die

So here I am, watching you wither
with the pain that I gifted
Your dark eyes burn with passion
made sweet by maddening hatred

I stand by the heath
tired, soaked, shivering
near your window,
out in the blinding rain

I came home to you, torn
by the merciless wind.
Hold me in your arms forever,
Please let me in.


© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

Those who have read the "Wuthering Heights" will know that this poem is a dedication to Heathcliff and Catherine. For me, they define the word "Soul-mate"

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Of Love and Shadows

Do you feel me beside you,
as the night surrounds us?
Can you feel me hold you close,
caressing, kissing your brow?
In your eyes, questions infinite,
Wanting me to concede.
Lips sewn, bloody
rusty chains, I have on my feet

The morning will come
The chill will be gone
But will you ever know,
that my heart was torn?
I let you pass by, looking
at me with eyes accusing
for hurting you every moment,
with my dead, silent spirit.

You call me heartless
I keep the vow of silence.
You walk in the sunshine,
renouncing the darkness and me
I hear your anger
cursing the eternity.
You call me coward
and turn away from me

But know this my love
even if I’m gone
my love will be with you,
keeping you warm.
And when the time triumphs
leaving marks on your face,
when the sun sets, in the darkness
you will find me once more.


©Chhaya

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Insomnia

The cruel clock
drags slowly to half past one.
Two tiny white pills..
I cling on to my weapons.

Pillow cold as ice
heavier than wet unyielding rock
soft, white, moonlit bed
a mound of broken glass

The solitary streetlight
makes the shadows
dance on the ceiling
to the tunes of melancholy

Caressing my brow with love
the Angel of pain bathes
in the splendor
of deafening silence

“Rest is for the weak”,
she whispers
and gifts me
another night insane.


© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved
PS: the image is googled

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