I lost you in the wilderness of the galaxy,
Like my eyes lost their sight to myopia.
I now strain them to see our future together,
But you know these eyes cannot see far.

I am a fan of first times
This is my first time flying;
Moonwalking through the consciousness
Of clouded skies and abstract minds
I find you again.
And this is my first time flying
Through the horizons of your vibrating heart.
In between hopes, sighs and highs

Time flies they say,
I have learnt to love you in colours
In arts on canvas and poetry on paper
But I cannot go on any more
Because when this plane failed and dropped
My heart became a collage of unaccounted rainbows
I have lost my ability to paint you in my mind
Because the truth is
Grief tasted like the colour white
Plain. Bland. Like Grass, like brass. Like trash

I wish this grief has a taste in more colours
So my tongue can find you beyond seasons and seasonings
And beyond reasons and reasonings.













Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash