An intruder in the night
sculpting a face of a stranger
breaking into my premises with no right
a kindled candle with very light light
just to enlighten the way of the pirate
the thief, the stranger with a very benign face
a thief of no material but of essence
to steal away my sentiments, my life, my headings
holding no sharp weapon, not even a stick
just carrying a dead rose, which lies in his eyes
he has decided to replace it with my heart
to give me that dead rose so i can revive it, this rose which he holds restless
the dead rose which has endured all his hard journeys
all his scars and his strays from himself, from his life, from love
this dead rose once living, red as blood yet light as water,
flourishing in a dead environment yet fierce to stand on its own,
he talked of himself, of this dead rose
that resembles him and all he has gone for
He spoke of irony, how a rose so alive can be dead and a man with dead feelings
could still be alive
I asked him about his midnight visits and his urges to come so late
"in the day my fake journey begins and at night i end up where i belong in"
his words seemed so concealed with mystery and camouflage
that i made no attempt to understand
yet i could sense his wound, i could see it,
put my hand on it and feel it, right on his heart i lay my hand
why is it so frozen? so cold? no beats not even one,
i turned to ask him, why is he a dead man
he could hear my question, he smiled implicitly and said
"my heart left me ever since i lost the zest for life and love"
"it cant be, you're still breathing! you're alive!"
from that moment on the man-with-no-heart-beat visited me every night
and i would hear his heart beat louder in every time
but ironic as it may seem, as his heart beats grew stronger his life span grew shorter
but he died alive, alive with my soul, my heart
my whole being inside of him, but i remained dead
absent hearted with a memory of my love in my head...
