The romance we think is no less than some jargons.
It was indeed us as Perfectionists,
Who made us two such refined, with each memory;
We held of melodies that never rhymed.
The unaware news of your lover’s betrayal.
Soon was to be a writer’s new story,
But truth to be told, I was the song you name ‘Untitled’,
We held of melodies that were never merry.
I write of you in many springs to come
Just when I first wrote of you,
Then curse at the monsoon;
For you abandoned the girl who waited for your return.
***
Renting Her Heart
Walking past your lane; reminds her of you
Even though the both never walked the path with togetherness.
Miserably she missed the whispers of the late night conversations;
Do you talk about the ‘old kind of love’ to someone else?
Exchanged talks about luncheons and Duchess,
Monsieur and Lords, out of all romances.
In midst of modern romanticism;
Perhaps, only she admitted the Old kind of love.
When was it that you decided to sing to her?
When was it that you designed the banality?
Platitudinous was for you to know of her heart,
Heart-rending it was for her.
***
Author's Bio: Akanksha Subba is a student of British Literature; Assam Don Bosco University with a diploma in Food Production from IAM Guwahati. She has been enthralled by literature since she first read a poem by ‘William Wordsworth’ during her 8th standard in school. She is the happiest reading creative arts in the form of words and penning down the image from her wandering mind. A part of her writing is posted in a website which was a stepping stone in her literary career.
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