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You were my child,
my priority,
my responsibility,
my spouse,
my delightful melancholy,
my breathtaking Christmas,
during moments of despair.
What perfect misfortune
would bring about
the same terrifying nights next to you.
I missed you.
I would die for another fight,
another calamitous night,
another plight,
and more dark moments
next to you.
Now,
I'm still unfamiliar with this peace
without you here to wreck it.
I miss you.
Holding your breathtaking handsomeness,
like dancing with the same alluring malice
that draws its scars over my innocence.
The elusive harmony that brings all
my weaknesses up,
like a romantic novel
drowning between the mouth of
the Mariana Trench.
How could I
bring those dark days back?
How could I not let you go?
It's killing me when
I couldn't reach you anymore,
when I couldn't fight for you
or even cheer you up.
How far we've come,
you and I,
like a spell without its flame.
I miss you and the way I
used to pamper you on your birthday,
but today I couldn't even say it to you
because we are no longer together.
I'm bleeding from the inside,
and you're not here
to tell me to stop overreacting
and grow up.
I miss you,
I really do.
.
.
.
Hello ex-Hubby,
I meant the handsome dystopian boy,
currently, I'm writing you the sin
I remembered that craved the most,
when I dared to
penetrate my colorful virtue spot again.
to ride the last whole night car with you
in a hurry,
and forget about the evil you,
hating women, dressed in your dark flurry.
I embraced those tiny white palms in my head.
when they refused to touch me back and ride ahead.
instead of losing interest
and forget about reverence you physically,
I kept my fingers crossed secretly,
under the car seat,
next to the prestigious scent of yours.
Your North African amber eyes
that refused to match mine,
to get lost between their depressed universes and shine.
I prayed along this magnificent time,
to God so he could with his 99 mercies
make you fully mine.
The lava that burst divinely
out of your Tunisian delicate betrayed my senses
and lit the full hungriness towards your beguilement.
I encouraged my half stability
to make it through
a little bit far from you,
my hallowed brew
with every single meter that we've passed
I fluctuate amid the idea of capturing you devilishly or sacredly, between making some blood contracts with the devil itself,
or donate as much money as I could,
for the sake of being together,
burring ourselves on an old bookshelf.
trichotillomania; the colorless ferocious ogre,
that used to assault my bright aesthetic soul,
as a tight fatal choker
to remind it chastely,
of the imperfection portrait of mine.
and pursue its pride with a fiery scourge,
matted with brine
when I started to rise my jaded fingers
to covet those golden cheeks.
I failed!
the deficiency is capturing me
The keloid I hated the most
as I carry my dramatic havoc away,
a little bit away,
from your inner fray
pathetically, I turned my whole feelings
against my well ignoring the idea of
love Subliminal and its spell
facing the windscreen
that harshly afford me a great frustration
trying to cover my hope with trash sack and provocation.
I failed,
escaping the life blackmail,
convincing me to practically disbelief on you.
But I kept myself as holy as I dared to.
despite of my Viscera's beating,
crumbling and shrinking.
I kept my grin harmfully, blinking.
under your realm seeking for a light of your anger that will
console me again. and bring me home.
Happy Birthday!
.
.
.
How can I liberate myself
When my hands are not handcuffed
Yet my mind yearns endlessly
For more of you around?
Him
Source of my energy,
Amazed by his prodigy.
Nourishes with ardour,
Unifying passionately each other!

© Biswarupa Purkayastha.
el Mar 20
i think people don’t ever understand what i mean
he hands her his cigarette
as if in wordless consolation
she does not smoke
and she has never touched a cigarette until this moment
she meets his extended hand half way
she wraps her fingers around the instrument
as if it were a crutch
your cigarette anchors you
she tells him, but does not think he understands
he anchors her
anchor on rocky bay
the world around them is the wind
and she is the boat
mercilessly, harshly rocked
on the water's surface
until she is hitting the rocky shore
over and over
over and over
hurting
just to stay anchored to him
i wish you understood.
you are my story for love
you are the meaning of my forever
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