Skip to main content

Debris

The wars have been waged.
A bomb fell the other day on my rooftop.

Nothing much was destroyed, except the flower pot that bore the
last rose of the season, and of course the room beneath it.

Why did I say nothing was destroyed??
A room, a big room was grounded to dust.

As I stood in front of that half shell of a room,
I saw how little I had sufficed myself with.

There was a bed, few clothes, a water jar
and a series of empty shelfs.

Except one. Where I kept all the love letters
given to me by all my past lovers.

and all the letters that I could have posted
to one of them. And I value both.

They didn't let me take the letters."You better
forget those letters and them. Run for your life."

I turned to go back. Some rose petals lay scattered.
The last of the season. The last you planted for me.
Amidst the dust.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

BLOOD ROMANCE

It was his idea to skip the main road and go for adventure at the middle of the night. Her mood was already bright as she laid her head on his shoulder. Driving through the woods, suddenly the tyre went flat. It was an abrupt jerk. Comprehending the situation, they both felt elated. Except the slow waltz that played in their car, everything was quiet. Wasn’t this what they both wanted? Albeit, for different reasons. Quelling their excitement, they wore the well-rehearsed masks of fear and disgust for getting caught in this unwanted situation. She had carried the knife hidden securely beneath the drapes of her dress as was his lust, veiled by the clemency of his innocent blue eyes. Already in her 40’s, her body exuded the rare combination of sensuality, intelligence and beauty. As an artist, she always had her muses in younger men---guys in their 20’s. The passion that these men enthused kept her adrenaline gushing and her arts towered to their crescendo. Her paintings were vividly...
1 comment
Read more

The Dirtier skin

"no ship will ever take you away from yourself"---Constantine Cavafy That was long ago. Very long ago. It was that particular time of year when the shadows dance around your face as the moonlight seeps through broken clouds. We lay close, your hands trying to sketch the reality into my ears----the existence of a career and success, of a circle of friends and family, of fame and of you.  Your soothing words were covering my eyes like a lullaby, I was slipping but slumber wasn’t heavy on my eyes. I heard your voice. I saw the clouds. There was something I was waiting for. I didn’t know. Maybe a kiss. You kissed me tight. I was still waiting. I looked at the sky. The place where the moon supposedly hid herself was dimly bright beneath the clouds. I heard you say something… "your skins dirty from all that walking. Go have a bath and see you at work tomorrow”. You left.  I lay there numb , playing with my hair …minutes lapsed …I don’t know when but I slipped into a...
Post a Comment
Read more