The Unsheathed Photograph //
As soon as I looked at the photograph,
all I could see was a pelting thunderstorm and a pitch dark night,
the muttering sky filled with darkness and fright.
Heavy rain drops harshly patting the rooftop,
long roar of the trees getting swept and swayed,
bleared fields and gardens were disarrayed.
It was raining inside me, heavily.
Cocooned in a dark and coppery cloud of dust, of grief and regret,
The thunder and lighting of failed feelings and missed chances kept tormenting me inside.
The one photograph, speaking a thousand words.
And I, on the other hand, was speechless.
Venting a cry of hurt, I kissed that unsheathed photograph
and averted my eyes.
And yet again,
reminding me of the sorrows of my shattered past,
My heart cried.
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