In every goodbye, let there be the rambling of lost loves…
A touching poem of walking away from the land you are rooted to.
A goodbye is just a whiff of longings in the air,
The criss-cross traversing of salty tears
Sleep-deprived, smirking in the impenetrable dark
Winking at stained, old oil lamps,
Inhaling their long, moist puff,
One that the senses circle around, like long-lost music and dance.
A goodbye is the soft trembling in the early fog
Of the mornings where your coffee spills
In the folds and creases of your forsaken notebooks.
A goodbye is the thirsty licking of your lips
When you reach out to touch the filtered sunshine
Amid the honking, hustling cacophony of known vehicles
And let them hide your undulations, your ripples,
Your ardour, gone awry…
In every goodbye,
let there be the rambling of lost loves.
Let there be the confession and clinking of
Abandoned corners, the concoction of memories spilled,
Truths swallowed, wounds imprinted.
Let them burn your tongue as you slip away,
Slowly, into nothingness.
(January 5, 2015)
Pic courtesy: Pixabay
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