Belief is hard to sustain only where there is no love

All doors of this small house have been painted red

In the belief that you would notice the change of colour

The pale curtains that have been hand washed and ironed

I put my smooth lips on the dining table mica smells of you

It has been impossible not to think of you it never was

High on dreams I let you enter my little study

Kafka and Camus, so out of place is Colette, and yet she remains

My single virtue in the midst of all my weaknesses helping me

To sustain the pain and bitterness of a love that is no more.

Until yesterday I had pictures of my childhood years

Today the walls scream for a change and how decrepit is all desire to furnish.

 

 

Ref - Museindia


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