Poem: Nothing Else Matters

A Sunday evening in a glittering desert. Alone and away.

Poem: Nothing Else Matters

From a nobody who never mattered
To the only one who ever mattered
A heart open for you to call it a home
To heaven which had no visiting hours

A sort of the attempted poem —
Now lying as a crushed paper in the trash bin
I rest for now — a pause from giving love away
I have the suitable words, but not yet.

If you’re reading this, my dear, don’t bother
I will be at it soon, writing another poem
And another, and another — that is what I do
An empty heart brimming with suitable words.

Sometimes, I love this — alone, in a desert
The evenings are windy and chilly
Draped in the settled white sands
Illuminated by the impossible urban glitter

So, it’s me, the finger taps stringing words
Writing these bittersweet winter serenades
Wherever, however, whatever I am
Nothing else ever mattered to this nobody.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2025

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