When I am not here,
One day
May be the sepiatic sun-rays
Of dying afternoon
Will haze my picture at
the wall.
And you ,
On that spur of the
Moment will miss me from
Missing Us.
For some memories
That would suffice such
Momentary pain ,
That I was so relieved at
being in love,
You will search my cupboards,
Drawers for something
That would play the
Narcotic to your restlessness.
If ever ,
You find that red diary,
with parchment glues and
Dying fountain inks,
You will get to know dear
Of chapters I never shared
Even with you.
You will realize
Why I didn't let you
In to the Whole of me
But
Love to fill in
for those unexplained pages.
Some pigments are too acidic
No ?
SoUmY@
One day
May be the sepiatic sun-rays
Of dying afternoon
Will haze my picture at
the wall.
And you ,
On that spur of the
Moment will miss me from
Missing Us.
For some memories
That would suffice such
Momentary pain ,
That I was so relieved at
being in love,
You will search my cupboards,
Drawers for something
That would play the
Narcotic to your restlessness.
If ever ,
You find that red diary,
with parchment glues and
Dying fountain inks,
You will get to know dear
Of chapters I never shared
Even with you.
You will realize
Why I didn't let you
In to the Whole of me
But
Love to fill in
for those unexplained pages.
Some pigments are too acidic
No ?
SoUmY@
Comments
I forgot to mention, I love the first verse tooo much :)
good work
No ?
Acid is an emotion you have already beautifully managed to evoke with your poem . . . this last extra message only blunts it.
Why I didn't let you
In to the Whole of me
But
Love to fill in
for those unexplained pages.
Awesome expression this, Soumya, one that could only have come from your quill, so finely tuned and sensitized as it is:)
Love this one...!
And yes,I love the first verse:):):)