His Call
That evening
I sat down to write
My very last mail
To him.
And while I was writing
I could feel
My aching heart
Throbbing so loud
I could hear
Every beat of it
Pulsating with pain.
And still I kept writing
My very last mail
To him.
Though my eyes
Felt blurred
With all the tears
That rushed asunder
Streaming through my cheeks
And yet I brushed them aside
And wrote
My very last mail to him.
And when I had done
All the writing
I took a long, last look
At that letter of mine
Re-reading every word of it
That I had written to him
With all my heart...
Those precious moments
Were so endearing to me
For I felt that
Once this mail goes
I won't be able to
Write to him anymore
No more of those
Diary mails of mine
I used to write to him
Everyday.
For I had made a Promise
Never to go back
To him.
And that promise I had made
To him and to myself
With all the pain
[...] Read more
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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