The Shattered Bundle Of Joy

Poem By Matur Achuil

If it is an ocean it is not deeper
Than what we felt for each other
If it is a star it doesn't shine brighter
Than what we saw in the eyes of each other
If it is honey it doesn't taste sweeter
Than our last kiss

August 24th was the day
The day we physically said goodbye
But promised that our hearts and souls
Would always remain in an unbreakable tie
It sounds like a short while ago
But it feels like a lifetime ago
For I think I died from an emotional wound
Caused by the long distance between us

My lips still bear the pink colour of your lipstick
The one you had on during our last kiss
Are you surprised at how long the colour lasted?
I protected it from being wiped away
Even when that was tantamount to building walls around me
And burning down all the bridges
That connect me to the world around me
The memory of your soft lips against mine
Has remained a relic that I vowed to preserve
And protect with all my emotional and physical strength
For I priced it at my last breath

Darling it blows my mind like a grenade
To think that you have allowed mongrels and he-goats
To pee and poop on something that took us
The age of a pyramid to build
You have shattered my heart to pieces
That can take a Methuselah his entire lifetime to count

Even as I sit sipping a hot chocolate
In a hall that is full of smiling faces
I still feel like a bean seed in bowl full of rice grains
And I feel a mile-deep hole in heart
And I feel I have a poison to vomit off my chest
And that is when I remember my two faithful friends; pen and paper
Yes! Faithful because they can listen to me for eternity and never complain
And they never judge me when I tell them stories of my struggle
And they never twist my stories when they retell them to the world
They tell my stories the way I would like them to be told
As I write lines between teardrops and sobs
I tell myself the past has gone while the future is coming
So it is my duty to collect the pieces of my broken heart
And put them together
For as a man with a long way to go
I have to be in one piece to able to arrive at my destination at once

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And both have all the rights to life
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I lost not for profits but benefits
I give not to take but to make
For last is perfect the first is defect

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The intrigues of pain will be printed.
On my voice, even though jubilating
The cry of lived sorrow will be heard.

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We call it promotion to glory
With shaky voices we say goodbye sister
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A poet's heart is in his cranium
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What I Said Or Did

If I could unsay what I said
If I could undo what I did
I swear I would
For if what I said was hot enough