Wednesday, September 12, 2012

     Words ...Words...Words

On that twenty first stereotypical  night
you said nothing new,
Like that oily pillow 
some more lies again.

you kept  yourself half naked 
behind your words 
much repeated dialogues
of  drama,
some soliloque, some half uttered moans.

I sat by  the waters of GOMOTI
and cried or laughed
with disfigured face.
They were mistakes.
Yes, they were.

You heard  the cry as usually again,
 and again you said,
"Why do you laugh when you 
feel like  crying ?


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