By-Raina Mahapatra
The say,
Suffer alone
Shut the door and draw the blinds,
Crouch down till your knees rub against your chest
and weep
They say
Take your pain and call it art,
Splatter your tears on the canvas of life
If your tongue is stung by the kiss of sorrow
Sing away the notes
They say
Loneliness comes in parts
In the uninviting hours of the dead
In the damp sweat of a summer afternoon
In the hollow wind of an untimely monsoon
and never leaves
They forget
Loneliness isn't a single feeling
Just the unanswered letters, aching sighs
It's not the empty cries of dusk
Or neatly folded pillow cases,
drenched
They forget
Loneliness sings when the candles start burning
flickers when old photos start withering
in poems that get crumpled up
like a dead rose waking up in a book, long forgotten,
on a Tuesday night
They don't know
Loneliness is us and we are lonely
That art just makes us sigh with remorse
That summers are for mourning the gone
That loneliness doesn't come alone
They don't know
Loneliness is crowded.
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This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn