Poetry

The Last Call, With Love!

Reading anecdote after anecdote
Devouring them all like an antidote.
Savoring them to heal the poisonous
Break out – Love, they called it.

They promised me hope, rejuvenated life;
Nectar like thoughts for a drugged mind.
Words over words they built on.
Mindlessly drunkard searched for anon.

Anon was it? The lines were my cocaine.
From the one who left me estranged.
Anon was it? Parchment after another
Beautiful calligraphy oozing words preserved.

Brittle they were, broken was the reader.
A traitor was the heart – cheated reality retracing thought.
Tears over years, the brittle parchments dissolved.
Anon it was. Thus propagated.

Mindless child lost in the wild
Soon ended up where it was supposed to be.
Not a mortuary but a monastery.
Confusions deepened a triple lot.

“I’m lost.” Thoughts poured out nonstop.
“Your words cheated me.” Tears trickled.
Eyes searched for those brittle parchments
That was long lost. Wet stone held the cup.

“You need to let go” that mystic voice called.
That voice. Once mine forever and more. Mind hauled.
Flowers all over headstones, it sung melancholy
That gravestone was my Monastery.

Desired for that voice, mind went ghastly empty.
Retracing to his headstone, pink daisy-ed.
Jerked back, sleeps eyes greeted reality.
“You need to let go” a single pink daisy.

Wrapped and calligraphy to his perfection.
Eyes teared till guts emptied.
The headstand held a miracle. Indeed.
The grave had no visitors ever since.

The poem Last Call, With Love is also available in PoemHunter.com

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