The Souvenir Poem by Suyash Saurabh Singh

Where I am? What time is it?
Am I alive? Or its hell I visit?
here, it came, my eyes clarity,
isn't a bad dream, its life's reality...

Teared eyes are looking the heart so sad,
I guess i've lost whatever I had,
wounds are struggling just to recall,
what is pinching me hard? What made me fall?

Darkness around is stable as rock,
a flashback starts as i walk,
listening the silence of that beautiful flame,
burning me to ashes was whose dreadful aim...

Neither a blow, nor even a storm,
just a letter from her hand's warmth,
was able to anounce the death of my surities,
and pushed me hard to the depth of obsurities...

The letter, it called, that thing insane,
just because its me, and that thing was my pain,
all up to it, how it justified her lie,
it then flowed in my veins and turned me to cry...

I had felt that closeness, so i resisted to move,
her heart as it told, never hugged the groove,
the voice which first seemed beatific,
suddenly felt by ears, were just a critic...

Each word of that letter just carved in my heart,
that lie aimed mind and was felt like dart,
the pain i had to bear, even if i can't,
atlast i just groaned and then i faint...

God woke me but i didn't resuscitate,
being aware of this i just suffocate,
Debacle passed away but memories i did stir,
as the paio of mine was the only SOUVENIR......