Monday, March 31, 2014

A Cliché

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She loved him dearly

As she loved all the others
with the innocence of the heart
beam on the lips
gleam in the eyes...

She waited for him, too
To bring the Red roses
as she waited for the others
carrying an empty broken vase
in her withered palms...

She wrote sweet verses
to all those unpoetic souls
wearing her heart on the sleeve
pouring in to paper
till she went inkless...

As promised fondly
He also ignored
She listened, triumphantly
Too much love will kill you
Yawned,went to bed tranquilly...

By Jahooli Devi
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