The Cigarette Stubs He Left For Me

A bard, who smoked, his life, at nights
And smoldered, thru the, days’ despairs
Like an, impish child, chasing, stray kites
Tethered to, the yarns of, thoughts’ affairs!

When twilight sank, in the blood, of sea
He knocked at, my heart, with a rhapsody
Who chose, a whore, for his, art’s critique
A muse, bathed in, moonlight’s mystique!

I read, his lips, as he singed, my breasts
And the, rest of me, with his cigarettes
In the mind, heart, soul, and sin’s conquests
I paid, with my pain, a poor bard’s debts!

He ain’t, anymore, for them, at least
To whom, he was, art’s penury
I kiss, and smoke, his life’s, last feast
The Cigarette Stubs, He Left, For Me!

© 2019 Vikas Chandra

One comment

Submit a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s