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the thing about unwritten poems 
they never heal

i hate to remember you
in the unwritten pages of my diary
not that i don't see, i do

at times, i confess, 
to self
that i haven't stopped seeing you
yet
in vengeance, in frustration, 
in despair 
in the desert like longing to see you
i see you in all the unwritten pages

i write poems 
to remove your shadows
from the the unwritten pages 

love that's not soiled with
metaphors and mediocrity 
burgeons in health
not in diaries 

the thing about unfulfilled love,
in our despair to forget
we remember and remember 
i had sworn to move on
but

the thing about unwritten poems 
they never heal






Comments

  1. Kaustav SahaApril 19, 2025 at 11:22 PM

    Seems it has rained after a long time... the earthy fragrance of mud and grass has fanned out again 🙂

    ReplyDelete

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