Sorrow Blooms

He was alone on that stone bench

Under the tree full of blossoms

I did go close enough ,to see him talking to self

I guess the one I could not see kept him company

He did not remember a past , so he had this imaginary present

where he could abandon himself  to that imagined lover

He was never alone ,I was always alone

after you walked away from the corridors

of my mind

Where I thought I had an air of  love or flair for creating

Like this poem that is leisurely lonely

These lazy wrists will not bleed

Not acute , not fulminant

Even sorrow grows comfortable

in these pages, in words….

Stupid eyes sometimes cry

Like a school girl who lost her crush

whose face she has forgotten….

 

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7 thoughts on “Sorrow Blooms

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