Why do people leave when angry?
Infuriating under their breath and once the so tender eyes scowl, a flood of acrimony.
Slamming the door shut, trailing behind the cacophony of the decaying time. Already?.
Why was it this easy to leave after all these timeless hours together?
Leave me as the mundane dust, accompanied by the engulfing night, however.
Sniffing and whirling words wander about in the landscape, intertwining with peculiar distant stories and meeting familiar people they have never met.
The stories I hadn’t heard before, the mind was in debt. Bruising and oozing yet all you could see was the frustration. Hilarious? Funny?.
All these timeless hours darling yet you don’t see the agony. What have I asked this burdening or heavy?
Except for the time to sit as our elbows touch and knees clack, and listen to the voice instead of me.
But they left. So the voice and I lay as dust in the corner for timeless hours. I foresee.
Poetry of love by Oindrila Pal
