faint melodies

 The time for cries has come and gone, and I am still learning to voice. 

Faint melodies they are, but hell, it's soon enough for me.

All the love I've had is made of words alone, 

And I sit humming eulogies for dying notes.

I lie to get a second to myself again.

Hollow praise, and pomp and golden glows

Cast silhouettes too deep for my feeble mind to hold.

I finally learned to open up, ma, and now I've opened up too much.

I remember all that happened now, I no longer gaze in hazes still.

I was a little much too young, ma, and now I've lost the spark of youth.

I say I love the quiet so much, quietude is sparse itself.

I'm holy bound to to-do lists and cloak mundane in wistful lies.

I've lost the will to follow rhymes, I speak in random, vicious bites.

I've learnt to eat, and not loathe myself. At times, at least.

I've lost the thread of poetry, I unravel like tapestries.

And all this while, a voice beckons, don't be another travesty.

I tie my hair and feign composure.

Who cares whether the phantom lives.