Purgation Poem by Souren Mondal

The pain burns like the small tobacco


leaves in a pipe under the ashes



The smoke is inhaled thick


Life is in a broken moon,


pieces shattered upon a mirror,



The candle is lit up


the wind blows through


the flickering curtains


while the one who dared love


truly


sits in a reverie of past memories



Inconstancy,


the greatest virtue of a whimsical cynic


who loves not yet shows


that love



True lies,


read between the lines


and the light and shadow of


our experiences,



Yea,

the One is gone,


spent a fortune upon that One,


left no stones unturned,



But now that she's gone


her memories


pick my heart like the roses' thorns



What a laurel upon my head?



What an adventurer?



What Love junkie on my road to recovery of a love that meant nothing and everything at the same time...



Green, wild grass



not pruned is my heart..




A burden upon myself


I am



Love,

like a bitter shot of tequila


has gone down through my throat


on a dry, dusty day.



And ashes is all there's now


in my garden



The flowers she had stolen


and left...



What a marvelous theft?


what a thing of beauty is this craft


of stealing one's heart...



Meticulous, beautiful theif,


thief with smile of pure ivory,


cheeks of milk and syrup



yet a mouth full of lies


that smell like pèrfumes exotic



What a misery I'm


what a gigantic dream


full of hope


and devoid of substance you are...



What life is this?


what love was that?



Nothing,

oh nothing matters now...



For now it's all fragmented,


corrupted and beyond cure...



Aye,


I am a soul of a broken lover,


with no promise of hell and heaven



but a permanent spot in purgatory of your memories


that will never purge....