I hear your songs

those new ones too

even those you are yet to sing

yeah, I know them all

songs that singe

a private hurt very publicly

songs that pretend

a blue world in grey

songs that dance a dirge in rain

songs that seek what is not there

in the backyard of tangled memories.

I never stopped hearing you

your songs reach me every time

I hear them in sleep

they dance in my dreams

some times they howl

and you would be surprised of the noise

they make, songs and noise

an anomaly, right

but dissonance is important

so I read

to make sense

or who would know

what is a song and what is not

but then I thought where’s the passion

in your songs, ‘what’s the point?’ you said

where is your hurt? ‘what’s the point’, you laughed

where is your anger?’ anger, never, no point’,

you rummaged the soggy papers on the dining table

as if searching for lyrics lost

I should lose myself I thought

but again, ‘what’s the point?’

so I just sat down again.