They say, I’m mad

You are my self
My conscience, my care
The trusting mirror to my complexion
A soothing touch to my torments
My goals for the unattainable
You, with a wink of your eye
Turned to cravings
Aims to satiate
My obstinate wants, you
With the same wink of your eye
Burned to ashes
Never to be regained

The bearer of my dreams
My cravings and passions
You snatched it from me
And never voicing your pleas
Without a glance at me
Went away with it
Leaving me stranded.
My masks and my roles
To the wind you gave
And made it wings
To soar away from me.

They say you are dead
And i’m mad
But they know not you
And know not me
They are the foliage that droop and wilt
And we are gods that make them stand.

Palate your subjects
And come back to me
I know you will
For i own your breath
Give me my dreams
Wrapped in hope
And those ages
Wasted in waiting...

Behind these bars
I tell them so
They stare at me
And move to tears

On joyous days, seldom
When they show me light
In the gloomy parlour of my concrete nest
Decked on the wall
I see your face
As ever smiling
As ever mourning.
I wish to stand there
And hear you speak
And sing for you
Our choirs of love...

The pressure of their arms
Still makes me stay
But the tears in their eyes
Forces me away

They put me in chains
And gives me killing pains
But those tinges of ecstacy
That you gifted me and left
Gives me the will
That slightly hesitant will
To secure and to sustain...

I know,
I need not these snatches anymore
For you will come with my glittering dreams
To free me and lift me
And take me to cupid’s castle
Show them the garlands you made for me
With your infinite threads
And your passionate beads
Still fresh with memories
Of yesterday, today and tomorrow.

But even now they say
That you are dead
And i’m insane.

(A sincere wife who became mad by the death of her husband. His framed photograph gives her occasional solace. She still feels that her husband is alive)