Broken Dreams

 

Fragments of broken dreams,

each with a picture of

our love, lie

scattered in the dust,

amidst the strewn clothes

and  cluttered books .

 

Memories of another day

distant, yet so very near,

when stars crossed paths and

two souls met.

 

Eyes sought eyes across

the lecture hall;

held for a brief moment

into eternity.

 

The trees bowed in obeisance.

Soft strains of love the winds sang.

Flowers in myriad colours

declared our love story.

 

Our first kiss, lips on lips,

hands caressing, curve upon curve,

the agony and yearning

till love merged with lust.

 

A living dream we lived,

heaven on earth it seemed,

two bodies, one soul

even the Gods turned green!

 

The home we dreamt of,

the children we’d have;

“At least five,” you had said,

the old age we were to share.

 

An argument gone awry,

angry words meant to hurt.

I should have quit, but verbal vomit

never stays in.“I hate you, Get out,”

even when I meant

“I love you, don’t do this to me.”

 

You walked out, head held high

in defiance, “Come back, please

come back,” silent words,

tears too shocked to fall.

 

I try to pick those

pieces of dreams,

lifeless, yet with pulsing heart

brittle, they turn to dust.

 

Death did not us part,

yet dust returned to dust.

My broken dreams lay

dusty on the floor,

amidst the strewn clothes,

and  cluttered books.

 

Elizabeth Kuriakose

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Elizabeth Kuriakose

A hectic career as a banker and looking after family kept me busy for ages. Quit my job to look after family. Once the children were old enough to take care of themselves, I discovered my love for writing in late 2014. Words in poetry or prose have been my constant companion thence on.

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