It’s That Time Of The Year Again

“The temple bell stops but the sound keeps coming out of the flowers.” ― Matsuo Bashō

It echoes as loneliness, as broken insides
and as unsaid
I guess it makes sense
as bells are whole enough to house them
my conscience
a trail of memories and fragrance of jasmine flowers
five white petals
with amber regret in the middle,
the past is a pointed blade that cuts deep
if we are not careful
it’s not meant to be clutched in hand but kept away
in a drawer
but with you the blade trails its way to the flowers
obliterating
their core, their very essence
how is it that even though the bells have stopped yet
cries of loneliness can still be heard?

 

Photo credits: Wallpapers Wide

Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads