what is it; is it irony at my heels?

What is it
That they
call emptiness?

Self-reproach of a jaded wasted soul
Or seeking reassurance with fragile arms outstretched
Through a barbed fence?

What is it
That they call darkness?

A blackened spirit
Broken and devoid of love
Or a solitary existence
In an abandoned fortified island?

What is it
That they call elusive?

The melting time
You chase round the corners?
Or a the touch of wind
That stealthily caresses your eyelids?

What is it
That they call addictive?

A rare moment
Of gratification with a stranger
Or a moment of
Satiatiated alleviation through a needle?

What is it
That they call idyllic?

A ride on the
Cotton clouds
Or a moment of seclusion
On a remote island?

What is it
That they call forbidden?

Deconstruction of a warped rigid
demeanour called morality
Or an over-indulgence in
seduction of unrestrained passions?

What is it
That they call utopia?

A cloudy suspension
removed from faded reality
Or a pandora’s box
Of broken memories?

A mirage
She co-exists
As a tangible entity
Ambiguious and cryptic
She is transparent as a mirror
Surreal yet rooted in reality…

What is it?

Different interpretations
She never has a same gift of fate for all…
Yet…
Irony is our forlorn shadow…