Trickery of a tipsy lover


Am I haunted?

Your memory is still so fresh like a drop of morning dew swaying in folds of a budding flower.

The more I avoid you, the more I think of you as if I am not myself but a figure of the present who revives the forbidden version of a forsaken identity to take control of my will.

I am haunted by the old me whom I have buried long back in the dirt of past; the fraudulent past when we had seen our not-so-proud-of future together.

‘It is not working for us’ – Is this how relations tend to enter into the state of despair and then end?

Over one single line??

What right do we have to inflict unimaginable and inexplicable damage to the rays of hope that awaits to shine through the possible perforations of the opaque clouds of pessimism? To get over with what we have over a single line is cruel, just cruel.

There standing by the platform amidst of the pouring sky, running trains, piercing wind and clatter of crowd around, I still tend to tarry in the woods of loneliness oscillating between the logic of ‘I love you’ turned to ‘I do not love you anymore’.

Were you as high that night as I am tonight to give up on me just like that?


Am I haunted?
Am I vulnerable?
Yes, I was
But not tonight,
Tonight I am without flaws
No conditions and no clause;
I might ramble
My words will shamble;
Yet out of courtesy
For your pride and relief,
Your wronged sword
Of silence and escape
You are accustomed to sheathe,
I ask you to ignore
what I just blithered
And heedlessly said,
The same way
You ignored me then.

Yes! Ignore me
Definite yes to all
There are no maybes,
Yes! I am free
Cheers! I feel so free!!
Here, Cheers again!!
No pain, have no one to tail
Cheers!! I am happy again;
And there my words
With my eyes, they do not qualify
I made toasts but then I cry
To fake my elation
How long shall I try?
I cry over my irreparable injury,
I am at the verge of losing it
And the foot is slippery
I feel so miserable
For I failed
At my trickery
To feign my love
For the sweet
When all I get to taste
Is savory.

© Written Frames, 2017