Kash Baloch — Poetry on Identity, Love, and Survival

The more volatile you were, the more I was drawn; if our love was Chess, I would have been your pawn. I craved your whips and your chains, wanted to refrain but the temptation of your poetic pain always overpowered my masochistic brain. I regressed the pain but it would just wash down and over me like acid rain. I thought you were the one but you were just spun. Like Rapunzel weaving endlessly, you toiled all night until you filled my heart with nothing but sheer, demonic fright. How audacious of you to accuse me of doing wrong, when you blackened my lips and burnt my soul with your thorny song. You will die alone, crying out in your sleep, once you realize your sadness is what you have reaped. Cry your crocodile tears, stop distracting me while I hold the steering wheel. Your meagre issues are tired and lame, cancelled my subscription so that I could remain ahead of the game. How dare you assume that I will pick up and resume, you have embarrassed me while making me even more unhapp...

A new sun dawns in my hazy morning sky, capturing my heart's song like the most precious lullaby. Your eyes speak volumes of the pain that you have endured, but I am here now so you can rest assured. I will take you in my arms and wipe away the tears, as I speak to you of visions I have of future years. We will hold one another's hand as we find the strength to proceed, thank you for showing me what it means to truly succeed. I crave your lips and your thoughts so profound whenever I am down, lost and then found, you have added spirit to my life's unoccupied ghost town. We can climb the highest mountains and sail the lonely seas, as you fill my head with stories whispered by your voice that is reminiscent of a summer's breeze. Intrigued to say the least, I feast upon you like the finest cuisines of the Middle East. Like frankincense and myrrh, you are the greatest gift of all; just promise me you will be there to catch me when I fall. I trust in you...

I ride the train home with my heart in my hand, knowing walking away is the right decision. You were a skilled surgeon, with the knife in your hand that broke my heart with your final incision. Naiveté led me to believe that you were the knight who would save my dreams, I assumed we were two peas in a pod as you used your charm to trick me into thinking we were a team. Misled again as the blood drained from my face, filling my journey with horror as I long for the pain to be replaced. I refuse to regress and return to past vices, although they are tempting, sobriety is more enticing. I want to be conscious as my soul cries out with pain, I yearn to feel the sorrow that washes over me like the rain. We could have conquered castles and taken over Rome, but instead I seek out my mother's hand, hoping to feel the comfort that is home. Unburdened of your child's play, colour no longer seems as bright; as the silent reverie I find in sleep veiled in the darkness that is ...