BALLAD Poem: Solitude, by Kaveh KakaeiNezhad

There is no bond between me and the mirror.
The ceiling of my chest collapses beneath the cold boot of loneliness,
and sorrow melts across the brow of memory.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
The harsh slaps of absence sting the child’s face,
as the black parade of clock hands
marches to the tune of your vanishing.
Toys.
Heartbeat.
Fear sprouting in the ashes of forgotten youth.

I was not a phoenix, nor a seeker of manhood.
I was regret curled in the lap of life,
an innocent fault trapped in the loathsome snare of obedience—
a premature release,
a rush,
a helplessness.

You were not.
You are not.
You will not be—
That is the question.

I embraced the doll. Nothing.
I embraced a friend. Nothing.
I embraced a cigarette. Nothing.
I embraced a lover. Nothing.
I embraced the bottle. Nothing.
I embraced the crowd. Nothing.

In my city, no one knows the worth of the sun.
The towering canopy of thoughts forgets the blessing of day.
The turquoise tide of mind forgets the worth of the moon.
The torn sail of feeling forgets the gift of wind.

And still,
no bond exists between me and the mirror.
On one side, this aged middle-age,
on the other, a rejected child.
No bond between me
and me
and me.