Tuesday, 18 September 2012


When one's soul mate breathes his last,
One comes to breathe one's overweening first.
The body there burning on the pyre,
And here one is caught in an inferno of mire.
One still wants to cling hopelessly to that identity,
But one is treated as a lost, nameless property
Who just pulls on preserving the scattered remains,
Nothing but the only painful solace in her domains.

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