Here – Poetry

Here I am to lay a wreath
on the memories of a tryst
whose dance had inflamed me,
flushed me with its fever
and left me prodigal with passions.

Here I stoop to scatter roses
redder than infatuation,
on her, who was once
a constant finger on the pulse of my feelings;
with whom I was one,
like thunder and lightning.

Here I turn my back
on the reverberations of the sweet crackle
that was your laughter;
the rose-tinted thoughts
that were memories of you,
and the dream-dunes we had built.

And now I walk away
from the alarms you set off
when your arms encircled me;
the implosion in my being
when your lips brushed against mine;
the music of your voice
which used to unknot my nerves;
and the vintage intoxicant
you used to brew with this body
with your warm coupling…

I walk away to breathe again,
Now the wind comes tousling my hair.