Friday, September 3, 2010

A guest

Clean hygienic hands and feet,
face pale white like aspirin,
Her memories
straight like clothes line.
She used to have dinner with me,
and then
she used to cover my nakedness
stealing my own shirt.

Like the nomadic birds
she used to cast shadow on my
bleeding lips.
when the coffee got cold
she used to shiver in her heart.

I shut my door to sit for
She shuts her heart
and break me to pieces.


  1. it is most heartfelt, amiya ji. i have a nagging question though, will we be safer if we do not let guests in knowing they'll leave soon? or isnt the pleasure of having them for sometime enough to see us thru the pain after they are gone?

  2. Stay stay until the hastening day.....

  3. Thank you my unknown friend for excavating a poem from the rubble of old memories.I am now posting this poem in Face book.