” It doesn’t mean anything “

There’s a snarl
On your face.
I wonder,
if you Know.
If you even
Enough to
Let me go.

Lips tainted,
Red on glass.
Smudged stains
Coat the past.

There’s white
In the air-
you breathe
Through it.

In and out,
There isn’t much
To do.
Clouds of smoke
Shroud the truth.

We’re doing it, again-
Making the same mistakes.
You kiss,
And I won’t tell
This tale.

A bitter tongue,
Your breath laced
With venom.
Your drug’s amiss-
Mine slips between us.

There’s no pain-
No stories to tell.
Once the lights
Are out,
You’re lost in haste.

Your mind’s rust.
“Give it a rest,”
There’s nothing
To know of.

There’s ink,
Around your skin.

What does it mean?
“It doesn’t mean a thing.”

You and I,
We’re the cold
In the wind.
We’re the last of the line,
The manifestation
Of sin.

“I don’t care.
It doesn’t fucking matter.”

It feels better,
The lies
That slip after.

Button downs,
Cuff links
And satin.
Your voice like velvet-
No scratches.

“I have to leave.
There’s food on
The table.”

No goodbyes,
No mornings-
Where the light
Doesn’t hear us.

I see you-
With your hands
Around her waist.
Another on the glass.

Was it?
I could’ve laughed.

You beat me to it,
Throwing your head back.
If i close my eyes,
Will you let me

There’s music,
The swinging of
Of feet running

Eyes slither
Down what cascades-
It’s red.
Your favourite.

Her hands on you,
The ring shining bright.
The smile you send-
Could shake her insides.

But I know better.

It was your game.

“Come see me.”
I run-
But you never chase.

It’s not what we need.
Only the dark
T H R I V E S,
Where the dark seeks.

We’re no different,
Just two shades
Of the same ink.

Bleeding into
The pristine.

She’s nothing-
Like what you seek.
Spreading onto
The onyx.

I’ve Given up.
I’ve surrendered
To the pleas.

We’re dancing in
The shadows,
Ruining what
We please.

I know.
As you spin
Her around-
Hands in her hair,
In her mouth.
I’ll still be around.

I’ll always
Come back;
To you,
To us,
To the wreckage
That’s this four post.

Crashing of limbs,
Screaming in agony.
It’s where we belong-
We live in tragedy.

And I let you,
Lose yourself
in her Arms.

Because when the
Curtain falls,
It’s us-
In the dark.

~Simran Khurana


6 thoughts on “” It doesn’t mean anything “

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