Audio Pain

I cannot hear you 
in my absence― 
for a transient heartache. 

Life gives you a dirty slap 
and you write a poem 
and this was not to happen overnight. 

Looking at you straight 
I discover myself 
surrounded by glares. 

From where the horse 
was felled, a warrior makes 
a hole in earth to reach 
the flesh of time. 

The flames take away the 
gifts of death. Only the grey 
ash smears the face of moon.