like a meat seller in a crowded market
she let the knife cut deep
like a heart cleaved into two halves,
one light red, one dark
revealing the shades of emotion
like an actor on stage.
Was it her
or was it someone
who lived in an age forgotten
like a shooting star in a pitch black horizon?
Was it her or, a dewdrop
counting its time before it evaporated
on the leaf it made home?
Diced into little pieces
the vegetables lay shredded
transformed, spruced up,
no longer their original bland selves
hue, texture, form a metamorphosis
taking up a new identity
like Cinderella on the Ball Night!
I long for my slate to be clean
so that I can write what I may,
wish and desire,
grown wiser with time, hurt and toil.
I wish I could push my thoughts behind
and start afresh
a new story, a new journey
taking the path
that would lead me to salvation.
I want to pack up
my lifetime of reflections and regrets
in a castaway box
and dump it in the sea of obscurity
so that I dissolve myself of I, me, yours truly.
I just want to let go,
paint the town red,
pause to wonder,
stop to ponder
and then melt into nothingness….