Blind threads- an Ekphrasis

No, don’t you try to unravel the inhabitant of my skull. Don’t you try to untangle this mess, this tumult, this brouhaha I call myself. Because I shall always be intertwined, lest having to live like hanging threads.

The grainy monochromatic photograph

A fading red heart on a Dusty cover page of an Album bound with memories of People holding hands, and of Eyes perhaps happier than Those staring at them, because Sepia tones and tattered corners, Black and white and worn out borders, have eyes that smiled at each other, not Those that smiled at cameras,…