BEFORE I TURN TO DUST

Stand at the edge and let go
Into the abyss called failure,
Walk past the lake of sunshine
Until you hear your voice slur.
You can call me for hours then,
But you know that I won’t stir.


Call me deranged, call me nuts

God knows I’m but not insane
Forgo the ropes that bind you,
And break free of the chain.
 Never raging rivers with love,
We were manicured cats in vain.


Tell me all those beautiful lies

Tell me those half-truths again,
As he crawls up next to you in bed,
Tell me what happens then.
To him you are just perfect
No rows full of aggrieved men.


Take my hand in yours again,

Ask me to believe you all the same,
Stroke my hair and pound my chest
And kill the soul you like to claim.
Scratch my back with impatience
Sweetly tell me it’s him to blame.


We’ll walk down the same pier

And I’ll try hard to guess his name.
You clutch my hand and push my heart
Before it comes popping out in a flame.
You say that you remember those days
But ending like this is such a shame.


Glad you have moved on with him

I’m trying the same but I won’t just,
Those bedraggled memories still stay
Unkempt in my spirit with rust.
But wait up and tell me you miss me
Just before I turn to dust.


Hold on a second and tell me you love me

Just before I turn to dust.

 



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Mohul Bhowmick

Mohul is a national-level cricketer, poet, sports journalist, travel writer and essayist from Hyderabad, India.


Copyright © 2015 by Mohul Bhowmick.

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