The Lingering Thought

The Penniless Writer

The smudged liner hung around the corner of her eye,

Pain soaked teardrop.

Empty feeling strummed the last chord.

For the bridged-up glory was meant to stop,
The tamed scar was right upfront:

Of broken causes.
Of lost promises.

The skyline up above was cut blunt!

Now as time seems to traverse past her,
On a wrecking chair the heap of regrets she upholds.

If only the tick of the clock could be laced!
If only life could come incognito!

If only the wanderlust could be out there!

On blistered wings,
Be the crippled tips,

Floating over the shore!

(Tanisha Bhattacharya)

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