By Som Subhro Nath
At night, it drizzled...
The drops of holy nectar
From the infinite height,
Came to my face,
As if I needed the most...
The sky cried. It screamed.
The trains in the station became overcrowded.
I sat in the place, which was your favourite,
And that smell... It still reminds me of you...
But now, the petrichor suppressed the smell,
The smell, once I called the smell of love,
Is now crying under the darkness...
I boarded the train - the one less crowded,
To "our" favourite destination,
But now, the silence inside the train
Screamed too much to bear.
It screamed your name -
The name, I was the most afraid of,
The name of the ghost,
Which left me into the trenches of the darkness,
And the name, which still haunts me,
Barely letting my eyes close at night.
The sky became gloomy,
It cried even more.
I stood in front of the café,
Once our favourite place,
Now just a bunch of melancholic memories.
I saw you. I saw you in your golden,
You seemed too happy without me.
You- once my goddess,
Now- someone else's toy...
Tears blurred my vision.
I missed the way you called me,
At 11:57 before my birthday,
Just to become the first one to wish me,
You, who knew about me,
More than I know myself,
Weren't you too cruel
To leave me alone,
Fighting with death,
In a sterile room,
Where machines beep, and
Secret prayers are hummed in forms of drips,
Directly into the veins?
Yes you were.
But now am I hated by you?
No.
Am I remembered by you, even for a moment?
Never.
I always remained the poet,
Who wrote thousands of poems,
On your beautiful eyes, and
Soft, comforting voice,
But I was never the muse.
After all...
A poet is someone to be forgotten...