For the Love of Art · Love · Poetry

The Last One For You

This is the last one for you,
Before I change the hue,
Of the dark and lonely corners,
To bright outbursts of all colours beautiful!
But not before I refuse to deny,
What I owe you for tonight.

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For tonight,
I’ll let my curious heart,
Wander alone in the streets of love,
I’ll set it free for it to find,
Things for which it forever pined,
And never found until it washed upon,
Your unwelcome shore.

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And as I watch my wretched heart,
Stumble it’s way down the memory lane,
I see the darkness making way for the pain,
Lest the pretty picture my blood would stain.
The memory lane is in full bloom,
With the advent of the lovely Spring,
And I am just glad to own a heart,
That has learnt to find joy, and you,
In little things.

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When in the cold desert I sat by the river,
To weave tales of our forgotten love,
Where you were the Lord of my world,
And I was your Sea-fairy!
And together we ruled a kingdom so fiery,
That in it we turned to ashes.
While the ‘all-seeing-eye’ suppressed a laugh,
Over our unattended love,
And bid the wind to carry the ashes,
Far, far away.

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And I’ve been casting spells all around,
Hoping to see the past again,
Reflecting on the mirror of time,
Blissfully pure and bitterly true,
The same me, and the same you.

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But my spells misfire, and the purple sky,
Is stuck by a bolt that announces,
The homecoming of the beautiful kite,
From the yesteryear,
It has flown by,
To grace your memories,
And mock my defiance.

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I try hard not to wonder,
I try my best not to see,
How the grand and gorgeous kite,
Bobbing pretty in my conquered sky,
Turned all my truths into bitter lies,
And left me gazing at an endlessly crowded,
Yet brutally barren horizon,
Where accompanied with the ‘all-seeing-eye’,
I witness the stars play out the cards,
To maneuver the course of my life,
Towards the much-awaited closure. 

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But this love holds no bar,
For cosmic alignments,
Or planetary dispositions,
Nor for questionable sentiments,
When it has decided to leave you alone,
Never to return home.

And I descend,
On the path of solitude,
Resounding with your musical presence,
I have fallen enough to fall again,
And I lost the will to rise.

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So, I sit alone by the lonely river,
The icy breeze makes me shiver,
My endless sighs fail to subdue the whispers,
That fill the air as the night falls.

The curtain closes again,
The lights go out,
“Zephyretta!”,
The unyielding wind calls.

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