Old mails..

It scalds me from inside.. I am writhing on the floor..
I try to rub it off..The acid seeps in more..
If Macbeth saw my state, she would thank her good fortune..
Arabian perfumes can't hide the fleshy fumes..

Read old mails to relive, .. what my life has been..
Only this time, I know, what was really happening..
I don't have the coziness of what I believed..
All I have is how I had myself and the world deceived..

I don't have the warmth of self illusion and conscience fakes..
I don't have a chance in the world to undo my mistakes..
Not a single possibility of reinvesting my stakes..
There is no forgiveness, There are no second takes..

Your words leave no refuge.. I simply can't escape
Even now, poetry apart, your mails make me suffocate..
How I wish I had read your mails then, the way I read them today..
All I can do, is stare in hatred at my own dark silhouette..