Stranger to what I've always known,
These common courtesies feel alien.
Acting normally to what is demanded,
And that is how we have existed.
– Arsh
Drifted Apart
I still don't know
How many of your things
Are mine,
And how many of my things
Are yours.
I guess we'll have to
Contend with the fact that,
I knew you for a while.
And for a while
Is better than
Never at all.
– Arsh
Farewell
Stalling this departure,
Cause I know that
This is the last farewell
Between us.
Goodbye my friend.
– Arsh
Missing You
Crossing this world and others,
Searching for a version of us
Who survived together.
But we could never have stayed together
In any world that I can concieve.
I believe that that's the tragedy of it,
It was inevitable.
– Arsh
Doomed Reality
The path we follow
Among these hunters,
Will be our doom.
For our hearts are made of clay,
And for all our similarities,
Theirs are made of iron.
– Arsh
Death do us part
Crimes of passion run amok,
Spreading chaos through the land.
Yet this bubble of peace
We have found ourselves in,
Remains untouched.
We might not live forever,
Nor would I ever want to.
Yet for the time that I still live,
I will spend it with us together,
Until death do us part.
– Arsh
Day Thirty: Waltzing Masquerade
In this ballroom,
They are bride and groom.
But it truly seems,
That this arrangement attracts doom.
For they are but puppets,
Forced to dance on a never-ending stage,
So they play their parts to perfection,
Praying that someday,
Things will change.
For whom are you putting on this act?
To which great masquerade artist
Are you trying to prove yourself?
– Maya Desdemona
Expectations
Call me around to
Your point of view,
I'll sigh and just follow.
It's exasperating,
Infuriating,
Yet it's all I know.
Taking more and more,
I've given everything I have,
What more do you want of me?
– Arsh
Day Twenty Nine: On Belonging
I have never understood the concept of 'belonging'.
How could any thing,
Or being of this planet be assigned to anything?
Who would decide that?
What would it mean to that person?
I have noticed that it often becomes a part of their personality,
But what is its relevance?
What is this 'belonging' to begin with?
– Maya Desdemona
Day Twenty Eight: Prison Pastimes
Pessoa once wrote
In his Book of Disquiet,
That "Only the imprisoned,
With the fascination
Of someone watching ants,
Would pay such attention
To one shifting ray of sunlight."
At first I begged to differ,
Stating my reasoning
That great poets were never once caged,
But the more I thought on the matter
The clearer it seemed to me,
That the only cage holding such a poet
Is one of his own decree.
– Maya Desdemona
Luminousis 