A/N: I've been in a dark and somber mood these past few weeks, which in turn had gotten me into a creative rut. The worst part is that I can't seem to get out of it. As you can see, I've made an attempt to get out of the hell hole with this short IchiRuki poem. But alas, my writing has become too wallowy and emo for its own good. And I hate it. Gomen, minna. I'll update my stories soon, but for now I'm letting the storm pass. Thanks for reading.
lament
tentative years, they met, befuddled
by their youths, across the room they once shared.
a resonance darkened between them.
but the memory, full of germinal fears,
brought back each other's loss,
and held fast to their empty hearts.
the rain was tightening the leaves of the sky.
the wind was in its place. their zanpakutos
weathered and sequestered by age,
as the window where her lithe form once stood
rattled softly.
it is almost as if they were there
in the shadows and midbars, together like they once were
with the rain binding them in time,
as it combs the ancient roofs under which
shinigamis dream of untrue existences,
silent as ether, devoid of tactile senses...
and yet, forever remembering.
end
btw, you can interpret this poem anyway you want to. kindly drop a comment/review of what you think or your interpretation. and of course, this is ichiruki. it always has and always will be (now this thought made me smile a little). thanks again.