Desperation

Half-full,
half-empty,
my heart is a water can
without hungry lips
to give in to.

I'd sit with the laptop's light
glowing in my eyes,
never lust, never love,
just desperation.

Even my art gave up on me,
disposed me, like a lump
of petty poetry, finding triumph
in walking me home to the
bottom of a dust bin.

Didn't even bother to grant me
a last glance, as if denying the pre-
existence of its own downfall.

I guess it found other hands
to touch, to crinkle its dress
where a shy knee dared
to peek, just for once --
found other fingers to tear
at that fabric called love.

So here I am, desperate
in finding that
unexpected glimmer
of a water can, inspiration
in my eyes, a tear or two
to prove myself alive.

I could never bear being stillborn.

I could never really write.

21-01-2013
10:21 PM