to the bitter end

right at the beginning, it seemed
perfectly natural in that light.

with your wine-breath on my skin,
i wondered of the likelihood that
staying is perhaps not so difficult,
that my withered skin could regrow.

it’s been a year since i have dared
to think of love or its urgent utility.
it’s been two decades, only it did be-
-come a compulsion to be caressed
after the teenage-thunderstorm
of desires and obtuse obsessions.

you saw it through and still turned
it empty, whipping my senses into
(dis)belief. at my breaking point,
all that i had to do began&ended
without due rancour or reason.

i cannot begin to trust or bequeath
my faith to another, i do not need
to languish in the arms of dead love.

it’s done&dusted, dusted&done,
after having cut open a chest with
its gum residue and dried blood.

.
© Anmol Arora

Day 12
(Inter)National Poetry Month

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4 thoughts on “to the bitter end

  1. sanaarizvi says:

    “with your wine-breath on my skin, i wondered of the likelihood that staying is perhaps not so difficult,” this is incredibly raw and poignant in its portrayal of love, longing, ache and craving, Anmol! 💜 I am bowled over by the language and use of imagery. I believe trust and mutual understanding is very important in a relationship, for without it love is akin to walking on a path of thorns .. and it hurts to learn that the person you were with only brought half of himself to the table.

    Arz kiya hai …

    “Bandagi hum ne chhor di hai ‘faraz,’
    kya karain log jab ḳhuda ho jayen.”

    Like

  2. Languish in the arms of a dead love. A fate worse than death itself. There is much to be said for life without love, like languishing in the arms of loneliness? Love this.

    Like

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