agony · chastity · happiness · loneliness · night · past · poem · Poetry


Days are easy, full of sun and men and so,

I wave at them often and they revert with a smile

Nights are different, sans light sans shadows, not even mine

Stars too far from my casement.

Every night, I stare a blank sky,

dark, desolate, carrying an old moon with rashes

My heart no different.

In my balcony I stand, facing the winds who talk

Trying to hear them whisper

For they often talk about me

They bring the memories from my glorious past

One of these nights, I will bribe them to take me back

The winds pass too soon, in a moment or two

Leaving me with my barren present soaked in my own salt

Stars still don’t show up, they don’t come my way too often.

Words have taken a sabbatical lately,

My pen pining for them

I often try to read off the old scribbles

Scratches on my glasses don’t help though

The creases in the bed, I leave them untouched

They remind me of wrinkles on my face

I live in a mess, things hurled haphazardly inside

But I keep my balcony decorated

Passersby seldom care for what is inside

They judge what they can see, the balcony.

I stand there, hiding my present behind a hideous beard n broken glass,

Showing them a smile, borrowed from my past

They can never tell!


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