The brighter your light, the stronger their shadows

And thus the night beckoned the morning

Spent, weary and blinded by the cold

But the sun procrastinated the dawning 

Wary of what the night and the secrets it may hold.

My Neighbour : The BoogieMan

For the love of Pablo Neruda

Many know how to be with one.

Some know how to appreciate one.

Few know how to keep one.

Still fewer know how to hold onto one.

Yet

Only a handful know how to love one.

The following is an excerpt from a poem penned down by one of my favorite writers for whom I have something akin to that of  a crush. He also belongs to that handful category of people who truly knew how to love a woman :

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.

My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.

Her voice. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms

my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

The Bridge That Let's Me down.

The view from the top.

Fear.

Sometimes from the Height.

Sometimes from the Width. 

A Riveting Man

There is no telling

Nothing more compelling

Than a man who can hold on to his woman as if there is no letting go

And one who's sense of rhythm, can scorch the dance floor.