Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Two more by Shyamli


I am left here,

With no words,

tears or ache.

No sense of feeling left

in my fingertips as

they claw at my eyelids.

Cover bleary eyes,

ridden with bitter…

Bitter grief.

It escapes slow,

as I comprehend

your decision


In anguish I squirm.

Only one thing burns


Crystal in the cards…

It glimmers.

I shall, in return, do you harm,

"Your home will be in flames."


The present.

Wrapped, in a spectrum

of superficial lies,

A glimpse of thoughtless hope,

I saw you looking my way

And you saw

that glimpse of foolish faith.

Thus, you,

Conniving heartless, you

wrapped a viscous black

Plague and sent it, in a letter,

Fat, stuffed obesely with


just another crushed dream.

I tip over, towards that white cold void.




I move on.

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