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,



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.



This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn

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