Nights
No more have stories
That you do not know
And so
Nothing in me I have
That interests you
And I cannot hold you back.
Will you smile if I got back the river, that
Flew away from our steps
Or will the stories already told
keep you at bay?
I ask
Will you stay?
The morning is so empty
No rustling bed sheets
No early morning dew on the glass window
Nothing only reasons for me
Get consumed in your absence
I wish
You would be back
With all that is so full of you
And as you lay your head
On the nights cold pillow
I would remember this time
To put winter under your sleep
So that it covers your body
And consumes you
You will then be a
Cold dead body
With nothing so life like about you
And I who has suffered long
Will mock at your purple cadaver
I wish
You come back…
9 comments:
Now that people are asking me this. the questions atrikes and stands out...
Who did I write this for?
Who do i want to kill?
Perhaps I wrote it for myself...
But I didn't think about killing myself, i just thought about the imagery I believe...anyways i hope I answered a few questions there...
well Bunny...
first things first...good write...have always admired ur creative talent...no doubt about that...keep it up!
will be glad if the focus of the topics change to something "bright and beautiful"...seriously yaar...done with too much of pessimism in life...but guess that's how life is!
well now i understand what someone meant when he wrote "fascination for death" in your orkut testimonial!
take care..love u always...anweshadi
very good word arrangement, buddy!
You have been yourself, talked what you feel like, lived in a way you thought was correct.
I love that attitude!
yah i know...I think i really need to do that, not for the fear of anything else but for the simple reason that it will get boring and monotonous after a point...whats ay you?
hey thanks Chandan, after a bloody long time haan?
such a lovely poem....
keep writing like that...
love you....
Hey thanks amalendu bhaiya...and such a late realisation...love that anyways...
very good writing, but re-write, rather inculcate a tendency to re-write your scribbles...you seem to leave it to destiny
true enough...with time I am getting into the habit of impulsive writing, which isn't a good idea for someone like me or anyone I guess
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