Pihu Upadhyay Poet Rhyme

A poet's curse

They say its a poet's curse,
they lose everyone they verse ,
and if thats true
none of my poems were  for you,

Implying my soul is not my muse 
leaving my curse of no use

If I had not written for you 
i'd fold your laugh in pockets blue 
Like sun-warm coins I'd spend at tea 
on trembling afternoons with you

Id string our meetings like warm lights 
hang them careless at night
polish the edges of our small rites 
Until even faults held gentle light

But, ink, 
ink would not let my memory sleep 
it traced the curve of your soft name 
each line vigil and while I weep 
And found the way the quiet came

I wrote the way your hand would rest
a hush of blue bell on my skin

I praised the way your laughter dressed 
the ordinary rooms we would been

So call it cruse 
call it a curse
a cup which fills with wanting slow 
to write was to rehearse the verse 
that lets me feel you when you go.

I lost you once in parting's hush 
I lost you once when paper kept 
the gentle shape of every blush 
and let my yearning wake and weep

If silence saved me from the ache ,
I would wear it's calm like hidden threads 
but words are the small gifts I make ,
to hold our afternoons instead

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