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#Poetry ‘Without Your Love’ by Fiza Pathan

April 30, 2013

Without Your Love

by Fiza Pathan

After you laid me in my coffin of white pearls;

After you buried me, in the grave of forgetfulness,

I tried to shake my soul from this consecrated mud.

My face decomposed into sorrow,

And my bones became nourishment to the elements.

But this heart, this weary heart of mine,

Did not die, in this box of wood.

Without your love I can no longer live

Without your love I can no longer even die.

Just as you thought you could claim my virtues

I thought that my greatest virtue was my trust in you.

You broke my cord of life, and the blood of sadness

Flowed into my mouth as retribution.

Without your love I can no longer live

Without your love I can no longer even die.

On this road towards my gravestone of mourning

So many lovers have bent in sorrow and have turned away.

The ghost of each of them still lingers on the precipice

Of the cliff that binds me to death.

Now there is no one on this road leading to me

The soul has surrendered to the skull’s immortal groan.

The truth of truth is, I lived and died.

In one lifetime, I’ve buried an aeon of remorse.

Without your love I’m dying in crumbles

Ashes cloud my eyes in mockery.

The mud is sweet and moist just as my aching heart.

But every ghoul that walks the Earth in shambles

Has with it love’s curse.

Yet I whom you once thought gone will arise once again.

Out of the soil, the machine of your eternal doom will appear.

It will snuff out your breath in its smoking hot furnace

It will cut your limbs with its sword of hate.

Without your love I can no longer live

Without your love I can no longer even die.

So much was the love that ever was.

Doom speaks a thousand languages,

Which only the walking dead can comprehend.

 

From → Uncategorized

6 Comments
  1. indrani permalink

    oh! A sad one.

    • I know, most of my poems are melodramatic. Then again, love is indeed…..a slow form of suicide 😉

  2. How well have you expressed it ! hats off !

  3. Doom speaks a thousand languages – got me thinking.. Love indeed is sweet sorrow

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