Bereft
Your love makes me cry.
The love with which you never loved me.
Your love songs torment my nights.
Songs you never sung. Only hummed.
Your touch burns in me, the gentle
touch that slaps me each drunken night.
A bitter sunrise for every honeymoon,
a pinch of salt in every sweetness.
You make me dance to the tunes of a nymph
on the broken nails of my coffin.
Remember how you adorned me
so childishly?
Like a newly wedded bride,
with wine dripping on my forehead
and the white shroud glittering
around my neck.
The shattering glass was writing
the melody of this beautiful threnody.
And the silver anklets with which
you’d bind me before the start
of the charade?
Your unusual force kissed my ankles,
scarring them.
I am but your showpiece.
As the beads scattered on the floor,
each heartbeat was un-writing your name.
Wishing now that it could have
un-loved what seemed to be so perfect
O strayed Soulmate of mine.
BIOGRAPHY: Born in 1994, Brihintha Burggee is enjoying the experience of writing her first poems. A student of the Loreto College, she lives in the busy town of Quatre-Bornes, in Mauritius.
