A Martyr Of My Literature

Alas! I can’t, share, my glory
With a, graffiti, on, my shadow
I wish, world forgets, her story
I never, cared, to, ever know!

Pat…Patricia, a, white woman
My wretched, wife, who, deified me
A genius, from, Carribean oblivion
Whoever cares, whatever, was she!

She, strayed, with me, like a, mere minion
Searching substance, for, my masterpieces
She was, never worth, my opinion
Who, failed me, in bed, and, my caprices!

“Why don’t, you die? Let me, marry again”
She did comply, with my, very last wish
Paid the price, of love, for a man, very vain
Was she, my parody, if not, my pastiche!

Pat perished, in, came Nadira
To be, my, faith, and fear’s, fodder
I confess, “Who was, Patricia?”
A Martyr, Of My, Literature!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra

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