Sorry Songs

When it ends,
Like all my poems,
My ashes
Would blow in the wind.
Drifting aimlessly-
They might meet your skin,
Like a discarded letter;
And you might never know.

All our hate would have been gone,
Maybe our love too-
If ever
They were not the same.
All you would have,
Are ashen memories.
All i would have,
Are letters on your skin…

There’s nothing to say…
No morality in the third act,
No epiphanies from the pyre.
Just this:
May life bring us peace
That death never will.

– Shakya Bose


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s