Illusion Poem by rahul mandal

Living today;
On alcohol and broken dreams,
Lying on my sorrow,
Hiding from my own grin.

Holding tight—
To my loneliness and my pen—
Stroking every word of my successful attempt—
To win you in my poetry.
In the real world we don't fit in no geometry.
I will win you in my poetry:
Where too sky is blue and green is tree,
Tell me where you want to meet?
Eh?
Oh! At the sea!

I wore a Sunday suit
You a lovely pink dress,
Walking in the mess
Of my real misery,
At the sea:
We were holding each other's hand,
Clapping air was scolding land,
Which shook my alcohol dropped?
Closed my eyes and you were just words.

I lift myself up
Holding my cowboy hat down,
Kicked the door open,
And fell on the ground.
Words from my pocket,
Half unfolded crawled outside,
Living with you in poetry,
Without you in real world; I must die.

And that same old room,
Which was never groomed?
The stain of alcohol left on my face
Cigarettes smoke at the window
Always beating sun rays,
My old hands moving;
At the same passion,
At the sea;
I was in that same old Sunday suite
You always were changing fashion.