Poetry

THE TORTURE

Hey my love,

Spare me those words

Save that golden happiness to yourself,

For I am not asking that

We attend parties every Friday

Nor do I need your plea

Begging for forgiveness

For I don’t care

Seeing you cry without tears.

  I know am not a saint

And never will I be

But I can make it up for you

Because of my twinkles, my giggles and my tears

For a man can never live on bread alone

Nor do lame excuses bear a fruit.

We learn from our mistakes

And so I am certain that

My heart is yours

BUT it hurts so much

That you left without saying a word

I could not bear it

Memories still linger

Of the good times at that club

For losing you was a torture

A great injection indeed

I wonder if I will ever retrace

To get rid of these faded images

Images from the calm evenings

And night colds

Still I can’t collect my self

Because you ulcerated me

I am so certain that

 You no longer trust my promises.

Therefore, you my better half

Put yourself together

For someone else

Someone so foolish to believe you

For the bird in the palm of my hand

Is now dead and rotten

Goodbye!