Notes from an Old lover

The postman delivered

A blank letter this morning,

I hold an unending

nothingness

Broken only two uneven

Tear drops and that

familiar perfume

I don’t hate you,

she writes in invisible ink

But you never complete

Conversations, and never

Treat people well

You lie, cheat and

Make my heart beat

YOU BASTARD, she shouted

You made me weep

I don’t hate you

She writes in invisible ink

You cause misery

Every time you smile

May misery find you

And stay with you

Till you die

I don’t hate you

She writes in invisible ink

The letter ends

As the perfume fades

In a moment of madness

I taste the tears,

Bitter almonds, I tell myself,

Smell just like cynaide

Unending nothingness

Lies on the floor

Along with me

I don’t hate you

She writes in invisible ink...

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In the indigo halls of Imagined Gods of Love, Lovers leave half burnt letters of incense and trails of broken hearts - Among ruins of shattered Love knots, she sits alone Weaving a rosary out of Thin air With longing as its thread and Beads made out of tears -- In the Indigo halls of Imagined gods of Love, The walls conspire and whisper Into her ears Telling tales of unfaithful loves And unrequited desires -- The rags of threads once Tied at the Astans of Hamdan, Lie at her feet, as she sits alone Knitting desolation from the whispers To sacrifice at the altars of the imagined Gods of love

Tasenda

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