A poet

Rikparna Bhattacharya

"let's make love..."

somebody whispered in the darkness of the lonely room. I searched for the voice--and saw---the newly bought white copy smiling mischievously at me. Her leaves--trembling like the hair of the wind-threatened maiden. I went to her. I smelt the wild Hashnuhana off her skin, trying to numb my senses like opium. Her moist lips --inviting me as the soil invites the falling raindrops---I felt like going to die--I felt like going to fall---the doors of hell calling me--I was feeling defeated---
Suddenly I heard another call---"poet, make a bridge, please!"
I was stunned! Who is it now?
I found the black pain trembling like the Nimbus--full of moisture---I felt---my role!
I became a mason! I made the bridge! I made it to quench the thirst of the love- laden souls and bodies--eagerly waiting to meet and die!
I took the pain and allowed it to kiss the page.... While they both moan---I just closed my moist eyes and smiled. I felt the finishing point was not in distance....
My waiting began.......

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